


here i am (stuck in the middle with you)

by icecreamandlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hippie Harry, Kid Fic, Lawyer Louis, M/M, Past Cara Delevingne/Harry Styles, Past Eleanor Calder/Louis Tomlinson, Single Parents, harry is actually literally the worst in this but i kind of love it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4451180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icecreamandlarry/pseuds/icecreamandlarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Wait!” Louis calls, his feet carrying him to the door before his brain has a chance to catch up. “Maybe you could stay with him? With the nanny? She could watch both of them?” Louis’ never asked so many questions in one breath before, his eyes going wide at the realization of his offer; he’ll be seeing this hippie-flower-child-man on the regular.<br/>Fuck he doesn’t know if he can handle this.<br/>He glances at said hippie-man, his eyes obviously wary. “You want to hire a nanny watch both of our children?”<br/>“Yes?”</p>
<p>-or, the self-indulgent kid fic/single fathers AU where Louis is Very Straight and Harry loves everyone but the daycare workers</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this started as a short little one shot and is now shaping up to be at least 25k so we'll see how this goes. My original idea was simply H freaks on some daycare workers for being misogynistic but now its so much more. There are lots of social justice rants and H is as close to Woodstock as i can get him so here we go!!!!  
> also this was beta'd by maggie (compasstoship on tumblr)  
> you can creep at me on tumblr at arrowinheart :)

_Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right,_

_here I am, stuck in the middle with you._

~*~

 

“Kaitlyn!” Harry hears from outside a large oak door, ears perking as he leans in to peek through the little window. “That’s a boy toy, put that down!”

Harry’s brows furrow, hand pushing against the wood to enter the childcare center, eyes roaming for his daughter until he feels a small body crash against the backs of his legs. “Well hello there darling!” He calls, leaning down to brush a hand through Aura’s hair. “How was daycare? Did you do your-”

“Mid-afternoon yoga? Yes I did daddy,” she grumbles, stomping over to her cubby to grab her bookbag. “People stared at me,” she whispers as Harry leans down to help her stick her books into her button-covered bag. Her button collection was a fine one; his little social justice warrior sporting everything from _smash the patriarchy!!_ to _save the dolphins!!!_

“Well that’s awfully closed-minded of them,” Harry starts, frowning as he takes a cursory glance around the room. “Or maybe they wanted to join you?” He offers, trying to be positive despite knowing that not everyone in this town is as free-spirited and open as his little family, despite the stereotypes of San Francisco. Aura shrugs, tiny hands coming up to pull at the tassels of Harry’s flowing shirt. Harry lifts her onto his hip, her brown curls bumping his shoulders as she cuddles up against his chest. “Did you have a nice day otherwise?” Harry asks, raising his free hand in a wave at the women grouped in the far corner of the room.

“See you tomorrow, dear!” One of the women, Kathy, Harry thinks, calls, her face cheerful before turning to glare at a child pulling at her blouse.

Aura doesn’t acknowledge them, her hands coming to pat out a beat against Harry’s shoulder as she recounts her day step by step.

Harry listens raptly, as he always does when his daughter speaks, grinning as she tells him the names of all of the flowers that she picked that morning, nodding along as she sings the song she wrote for him during lunch.

The walk home is short thanks to their most recent relocation, their building only a few blocks away from both the daycare and the yoga studio Harry owns. Aura climbs down his body as they walk through the front doors, skipping ahead to the elevator so she can push the button. She bumps past several people on her way, Harry apologizing in her wake as he follows her path to the metal doors, smiling when they all only nod and tell him that it’s _not a problem, not at all_. He’s got such a great kid, she couldn’t make an enemy if she tried.

Aura runs straight to her room to change as soon as they step through the door, still mumbling about her day as Harry walks to the fridge to assess their food-situation.

“Thai mango cabbage wraps with peanut sauce?” Harry calls over his shoulder, knowing that Aura’s door is open enough to hear him.

She shouts out an affirmative even though he’s aware that she probably doesn’t know what she’s getting into.

Harry starts preparing their ingredients, locating the recipe on his Pinterest board _Cleaning Eating_ before scanning to make sure he has everything.

_No cilantro or jalapenos next time! Steam cabbage!_ He reads in his own comment section, thankful that he’d thought to make notes. He starts preparing the mango salsa while he waits for Aura to finish changing, her occasional murmurings flowing through her door.

Harry glances over his shoulder at the sound of feet shuffling into the kitchen. “Nice outfit choice, sunshine.” Aura’s got on a hawaiian shirt combined with teal leggings, her feet slipped into her ever-present pink, fuzzy boots. “Very tropical, I’m digging it.”

“Thank you, daddy,” Aura nods seriously, her hands coming to smooth down her shirt before she climbs onto the barstool at the island. “So did I tell you about Charlie? I don’t think I did, but he’s very nice, he’s been going that day care forever- I don’t know why because I don’t like it- but his father is very rich he can buy-” Her mouth is moving a mile a minute and Harry has to find a quick place to slip in before things get too detailed.

“Wait, wait,” Harry starts, turning away from his cutting board to face his daughter. “You don’t like it?”

Aura nods slowly, her elbows coming to rest on the countertop carefully. “The children are all lovely, daddy,” Aura begins, her voice way too placating for someone of her age. “But the ladies are mean, they won’t let me play with some of the toys and we aren’t supposed to play with the boys and they get more food than us!”

“Why’s that?” Harry asks, trying to pick one thing to discuss at a time since there are apparently many complaints about the daycare that she’s attended for one, single day. “Why do they get more food?”

“Because boys need more food to become strong, that’s what Miss Kathy said,” Aura states, her nose stuck in the air as her feet kick against the cabinetry under the counter. “And we aren’t supposed to play with the boys because boys like to play rough and girls can get hurt. But I play with Charlie, though,” she adds, her eyes twinkling with defiance. “When we go outside, we play in the slide and they can’t see us.”

“Does Charlie agree with these rules?” Harry asks, praying that this is all some kind of misunderstanding and not an actual misogynistic cult he’s dropped his daughter off at. “What about his parents?”

Aura shrugs, her tiny shoulders jumping up and down as she fiddles with the banana stand on the counter. “Charlie thinks they’re stupid but he doesn’t like to get dirty, it’ll ruin his pants, he says. He hasn’t got a mom either though!” She says, her fingers snapping like she’s just remembered. “She’s dead though, not like my mommy.”

Harry frowns his eyebrows pulling together. “Don’t be so crass sunshine, you’ve got a mother. I’m sorry for Charlie though, it must be awful.” Harry tries not to think of Cara, the first and only girl he’d ever slept with. They’d been too young to take care of a baby but Harry couldn’t let her go. And now they’re here, six years later, Aura the perfect mix of the two of them, Cara hardly around enough to know their own child. “Does Charlie’s father know about this place then? Does he know about the rules?”

Aura shakes her head sagely, a line forming on her forehead. “No, I don’t think so, Mr. Tomlinson works as a sue-er person, you know the ones that-”

“A lawyer?”

“Yeah that! He works in some big fancy office. Charlie doesn’t ever see him, it’s sad.” Harry turns around to work on the salsa again, his eyes sad. How can you be a single parent and never care for your kid? “Charlie says that their cleaning lady is basically his mommy though, she seems nice. She picked him up today.”

“So Mr.- what’s his name again?”

“Tomlinson,” Aura supplies after thinking a moment.

“From Tomlinson and Payne LLP?” Harry asks, spinning around to face his daughter, before remembering he’s talking to a six year old. “Louis Tomlinson?” Everyone who’s anyone in the Bay area knows of Louis Tomlinson and Liam Payne. They’re the youngest lawyers to ever win every case they’ve worked on and their achievements are plastered all over their commercials that play once an hour on the channel Harry shows in the yoga studio lounge.

Aura shrugs, oblivious. “I dunno, maybe.”

Harry turns back to his food, his new set of knives working their magic. “So Mr. Tomlinson doesn’t know about the daycare ladies?”

Aura makes a noise of confirmation, Harry hearing the beginnings of a new drawing from behind his back.

He moves the salsa to the side of the counter, washing his hands quickly before starting his work on the tofu to have in their wraps.

Dinner’s prepared within an hour, Harry cooking and humming quietly while Aura draws new additions to their refrigerator door, the doodles covering nearly every inch of stainless steel. “Go wash up, sunshine,” Harry says over his shoulder, spooning the salsa into the cupped cabbage leaves. He hears Aura hop down from her stool a few seconds later, scurrying into their shared bathroom. “Soap and water!” He reminds her, knowing about her tendency to simply run water for a few seconds and rub her dry hands on a towel. He has no idea where she learns this stuff.

“Do you think I should talk to Charlie’s father about the daycare ladies?” Harry asks after he finishes his dinner, hand coming to wrap around his water glass. “Is it appropriate to intervene?”

Aura shrugs, her fingers still picking at the chunks of mango as she thinks. “I don’t think Charlie likes it,” she decides eventually. “They put us outside a lot to play and he- he gets sunburn real easy so it’s not good for his skin you know?” She pops a piece of tofu in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “And he likes to play with the,um, dolls sometimes? And the ladies won’t let him!”

Harry frowns, pulling up the address for Louis Tomlinson’s law firm on his phone. “You think I should stop by after work tomorrow? I might be late to pick you up, but this weekend we’ll find somewhere new for you to go, is that okay?”

Aura nods, her curls bouncing with the movement. “Can I go where Charlie goes? He’s my best friend!”

“We’ll see,” Harry says noncommittally, hoping that he can do this for his daughter, but worrying about the pricing of a fancier daycare that Mr. Tomlinson might chose.

Aura hops down from her seat, grabbing her dishes to place in the sink before running down the short hallway that has only three doors splitting off of it.

“I’m getting my mat!” She calls over her shoulder, emerging from her room a few minutes later with a messily rolled-up turquoise yoga mat.

“Are you ready for our digestion sequence, daddy?”

~*~

“If you could just sign here-”

“You don’t have an appointment!” Louis hears a shrill voice shout from behind the closed door of his office. “You can’t-”

“It’ll just be a moment,” a deep voice says softly, the tones smooth like velvet. “It’s concerning his son, all the love.” The man is still bowing to Louis’ receptionist as he opens the office door, slipping halfway inside before gazing around, a low whistle blowing through his lips.

“Um,” Louis starts, eyes dropping to stare at the man peeking through his door. His eyes linger on the hideous yellow shirt he’s sporting, forcing his face not to scrunch at the sight of the large, gaudy flowers printed on the material. There’s leather pants to boot, the material wrapped tight enough around the man’s thighs to make any man- even Mr. Carter- question his taste in partners. There are heeled boots shoved on his massive feet, metal buckles present, but not overbearing- only slightly resembling bondage attire. Despite his whole _look_ his eyes are kind, deep dimples making an appearance as he seems to be checking Louis out himself. “Can I help you?” Louis asks suddenly, realizing a beat too late how rude he sounds. He tears his gaze away from his intruder, eyes roaming to Mr. Carter. Right, he has a client. “Sorry, give me one moment,” he mutters to the man, standing to meet this hippy-person half way. Mr. Carter gives him a wave, bending forward to fiddle with the trinkets on Louis’ desk as Louis ushers the new man out.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tomlinson,” his receptionist is gushing, hands still locked firmly around the man’s bicep from where she was clearly trying to pull him back out. Quite dedicated, Louis thinks. “I was trying-”

“It’s fine, love,” Louis mutters even though it most definitely is not. He shoos her back down the hallway, regardless.

“Is your son Charlie?” The man asks as soon as the door clicks shut, leaning his tall frame against the wall opposite of Louis’ office. “From Rays of Sunshine?

“Charles goes there, yes,” Louis nods, trying not to be offended by the nickname. He chose a strong, solid, business-professional name for a reason. _Charlie_ is the name of a quitter. “Has something happened? Is he in trouble?” His mind almost immediately goes to worst case scenarios, hand reaching into his pocket to call his mother on impulse.

“Woah, slow your roll there pal,” the man starts, placing a placating hand on Louis’ arm. “He’s fine, I just wanted to talk to you about the women there? At the daycare?”

Louis slides his phone back into his pocket, his panic melting into confusion. “What about them? Rhonda told me they were great.”

The man scoffs, “I don’t know who _Rhonda_ is but these women are toxic, Mr. Tomlinson-” Louis cuts in with his usual _Call me Louis, please,_ charade, hand itching to shake the other man’s just because he can already feel how weak the man’s grip would be- if he even shook it at all, Louis could definitely see him as the hugger type. “Louis,” the man corrects, shoulders loosening a touch, “have you an idea what these women are teaching our-”

“Look,” Louis cuts in, fighting the urge to glance at his watch. “I can’t really discuss this right now, I’ve got a client-”

“Think about Charlie’s future,” Harry urges, eyes pleading, despite his lax posture. “They’re brainwashing-”

“Just because someone has different views-”

“Louis it’s not like that, they’re-”

“Look Mr.-”

“Styles. Harry Styles.” He coughs. “You can call me Harry.”

“Look, Harry,” Louis starts, hitching his thumb in the direction of his office, “that man is sitting on three million dollars worth of oil and his time is obviously very valuable. I can’t keep him waiting with your-” he raises an eyebrow, trying to quell down his need to be taller than the man, “nonsense.”

With that Louis turns on his heel, feeling vaguely excited at the idea of angering this strange hippie-man, ignoring Harry’s noise of protest before marching back into his office.

“Now Mr. Carter,” Louis starts, smiling like a shark who’s smelt blood in the water, “are you ready to become San Francisco's newest millionaire?”

*

Louis pulls off his tie after his final appointment that evening, smiling when he hears a knock on his door.

“Liam I’m not going-”

“Um, Mr. Tomlinson?” A voice asks tepidly, Louis feeling irrationally angry at his receptionist.

“Yes Lydia?”

“Mr. Styles is still in the lounge waiting, should I send him back? He’s refusing to leave.”

“Peaceful protest or something?” Louis asks, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt before grabbing his keys.

“He’s very, um-” Lydia slips out of the way to follow him down the corridor, her tiny heels clicking against the hardwood. “He’s very passionate,” she decides eventually. “Aura is just the cutest -”

“What is it you want exactly?” Louis interrupts at the sight of Harry, waving Lydia away at her sound of confusion. He needs to address this hippie doing fucking pilates in his waiting room.

Harry looks up at the commotion, a small person popping out from behind his body as it’s settled into some sort of criss-cross applesauce pose. “We’re digesting, give us a moment.”

Louis lets out a huff of disbelief as he eyes the salad containers spread on the floor, Harry and this child’s calm breathing contrasting with the vibrant anger flowing through Louis’ very core. “Are you serious right now? You ordered take out?”

Harry nods slowly, his voice dripping like syrup as he peeks open an eye. “Suzie’s Salads delivers now.” Harry reaches a hand over to gesture at one of the half-empty containers. “Would you care for some dinner? It’s awfully late.”

“Since I’m not a rabbit no, I would not,” Louis says snarkily. Harry shrugs, the movement as slow as ever.

He eventually heads under Lydia’s pleading stare, ushering her out the front door while he waits for his sit-ins to finish whatever it is they’re doing.

“Liam still here?” Louis calls after her before she can get too far down the busy street.

“Left hours ago, sir!” She shouts back before getting lost in the sea of people that seem to be omnipresent on this particular avenue.

Louis hears a ding from behind his back and turns to find Harry holding honest to God finger cymbals between his thumb and middle finger.

“How do you feel, sunshine?” Harry asks, bending down the pick up their leftovers.

“Wonderful, daddy,” the little girl says happily. Louis’ heart wants to warm at their obviously close relationship but he’s too busy attempting to stop his body from shaking with anger.

“Do you compost?” Harry asks, finally addressing Louis after the longest five minutes of his life.

Louis shakes his head slowly, forcing himself to remain calm. “What is it you need exactly?” He asks carefully, avoiding Harry’s stupid question as he tries to ignore the rumbling in his stomach.

“Yes, the daycare,” Harry mutters, piling their (apparently compostable) takeout containers into the bag they came from. “It has come to my attention that Rays of Sunshine is a misogynistic cult and I just thought you should know.”

“A feel cult is a strong word-” Louis starts, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Hi, I’m Aura,” a high-pitched voice interrupts suddenly from behind her father’s legs. The girl is dressed in probably the most mismatched outfit Louis has seen (a light purple top with neon green leggings, topped off with a teal bow in her braided hair and fuzzy hot pink boots on her feet), but there’s something charming about her. “Charlie’s my best friend, does he talk about me?.”

Harry tuts at the girl, his hand coming to pat at her hair. “Sunshine, tell him what you told me.”

And she’s off, her mouth opening and, wow, Louis never expected so many words to flow out of someone so young, his own son, Charles, barely speaking more than two words at a time. He listens as the girl speaks, though, his eyebrows becoming more and more furrowed as Aura becomes more and more passionate.

“And so basically Miss Kathy is a very rude lady and her friends aren’t very kind either,” she concludes, her toes practically overlapping Louis’ after taking a step forward before every new point she made.

Harry was stood silently behind his daughter the entire time, his eyes obviously proud of his little activist.

“So what am I meant to do about it?” Louis asks eventually, his hand coming to gingerly rest on Aura’s head, feeling the need to touch her because of her close proximity. He’s not very good with children, he supposes.

“I mean, uh,” Harry starts, taking a few steps closer to his daughter (and, consequently, Louis). “I just know you're busy with, like, work and stuff so we didn’t know if you would know about the daycare ladies.” Louis tries not to laugh at Harry’s general lack of tact. “So we thought you’d maybe want to leave the daycare and go, like, I dunno, somewhere else?” He coughs unnecessarily into his fist. “Maybe somewhere along Tate Avenue?”

“It’s close to our house!” Aura butts in, her head propped up on her fist to stare Louis in the face. “I would like to stay with Charlie please. He’s my best friend.”

“Yes I know, Aura,” Louis says, bending a little solely because he’s worried about her head being bent at that angle. “I was thinking of hiring a nanny, actually,” Louis says to her, frowning when her eyes start rapidly filling with tears.

“But- but then I can’t go with him!” She cries, her tiny arms winding around her father’s waist as she starts to full-out wail. “He’s my best friend!”

Harry’s eyes had gone hard at Louis’ words, his icy stare locked on Louis as he leans down to pick his daughter up. Louis doesn’t suppose that there are many things that make Harry angry, but being the cause of his child’s tears probably tops the list. “It’ll be okay, sunshine,” he coos quietly, reaching for his takeout bag as he starts backing out the door. “You’ll make friends at a new place, you always do.”

Louis’ eyes are pricking, feeling emotional from both the long day at work and the sight of this little girl bursting into tears because of him. Jesus, he’s gotten so soft. “Wait!” Louis calls, his feet carrying him to the door before his brain has a chance to catch up. “Maybe you could stay with him? With the nanny? She could watch both of them?” Louis’ never asked so many questions in one breath before (and basically his entire job is to ask questions), his eyes going wide at the realization of his offer; he’ll be seeing this hippie-flower-child-man on the regular.

Fuck he doesn’t know if he can handle this.

He glances at said hippie-man, his eyes obviously wary. “You want to hire a nanny watch both of our children?”

“Yes?”

“Aura why don’t you go pick some flowers,” Harry says to the girl, allowing her to slide down his body as he gestures at the array of floral arrangements around the waiting room. Wow, okay. “How much will I owe you for this?” Harry asks, his voice still holding a touch of disbelief.

“You don’t need to-”

“Don’t pull that with me, Louis,” Harry says, eyeing Aura as she skips around the room happily, her tears from earlier forgotten. “Nanny’s around here are making no less than eighteen dollars an hour, I’ve looked into it. It’s seven hundred and twenty a week _per kid_.”

“Harry, don’t worry about it,” Louis starts, eyes rolling as he smiles. “Our kids are friends or whatever and I could find someone cheaper, I’m sure, if it’s really that big of a concern to you. Charlie really has seemed happier recently, you’re daughter probably played a large roll in that.”

Harry smiles to himself, glancing at his daughter, but is back to his no bullshit attitude in seconds. “I can give you two hundred a week for now, maybe more if the studio picks up,” Harry declares, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.

“Woah woah,” Louis says quickly, placing a hand on Harry’s arm to stop him. “Let’s maybe see if I can find someone first, okay?”

“How soon can it be? I don’t want to be pushy but I don’t want Aura with that _cult of toxicity_ any longer than she has to be.”

“I’m still not sure it’s a cult,” Louis says carefully, “but based on your passion for the subject, I’ll take your word for it.”

Harry nods to himself. “Aura, dear, are you ready to go? Mr. Tomlinson is going to try to work things out.”

“I get to stay with Charlie though?” She asks innocently, toying the the petals of the flowers she’s gathered in her hand.

Louis nods, a smile gracing his face despite the girl’s defacement of his company’s property. “I’ll sort it all out by Monday.” He sidesteps over to the front desk to pull out his business card, swiping a pen to write his cell phone number on the back. “Call me tomorrow so I can get your information and we’ll go from there.”

Aura plucks the card from his fingers, crashing into his legs for a hug before wiping at her nose. “Thanks Mr. Tomlinson,” she says quietly as Louis bends over to hug her back. She hands him the crumpled bunch of flowers. “These are for Charlie, I got his favorites.”

Louis nods politely, waving a hand as Harry ushers his daughter out the door, Aura skipping far enough ahead that Harry has to run to catch up.

Louis holds down the middle button on his phone.

“Siri, remind me to call the florist for the office.”

“Siri, remind me to shut down Rays of Sunshine.”

“Siri, remind me to find a nanny.”


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cause you're hot then you're cold...
> 
> Chapter two!! Yay!!  
> (once again beta'd by Maggie, my love)

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up about Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry tells Aura softly, tugging her blouse over her rumpled hair. “I know what he said but we don’t even really know them, alright?”

Harry’s always trusted too easily. He never can tell when someone’s playing him and it’s always been his hamartia. He’s literally putting his daughter’s life in this man’s hands and he’s never felt so on edge in his life considering he’s not even called Louis yet, the business card burning a hole in his back pocket.

“I know daddy,” Aura repeats for the fourth time, her eyes probably itching to roll. “But I like Charlie, he’s a good kid.”

“You’re a good kid,” Harry counters, poking a finger into her little belly. “Now what hairstyle for today?”

“Pigtails please!”

*  
Harry doesn’t have a chance to call Louis until after lunch, every single one of his sessions running later than usual.

“Hello?” A tinny voice answers when Harry finally works up the courage to dial in the digits.

“It’s, um, Harry? Harry Styles?”

“Harry hi!” Louis cheers quietly, papers shuffling from the other end of the line. His mood seems to have markedly improved. “I know you want to know about the nanny.”

Harry nods. “That is true.”

“Okay so first things first, my place or yours?” Louis asks, the paper shuffling fading into fast keyboard clicks. Harry doesn’t know if he could handle so many things at once.

“Did you know multitasking isn’t really a thing?” Harry asks, suddenly feeling like this is something Louis should know in his line of work.

“What now?”

“It’s not possible to focus on more than one thing at once so really you’re just rapidly changing focus from one thing to the other.”

Louis hums. “So you feel I’m not paying attention to you?”

Harry sucks in a little breath at Louis’ mildly offended tone. “That’s not what I meant-”

“I’m more than capable of speaking on the phone and finishing up some work, Mr. Styles, I’m quite well gifted.”

“I mean, I was just saying-”

“And I’m asking if you want the nanny to watch our children at my house or yours.” Louis’ tone is becoming rapidly disinterested, vastly different from the almost cheerful way he had answered.

“Well I live in an apartment-”

“Oh Jesus Christ, they’ll just stay at mine,” Louis interrupts, exasperation dripping from every word. “When can you drop her off?” He asks, pen scratching against paper.

“I like to be into work by seven, so six-thirty?” Harry reaches a hand up to scratch at his neck, feeling so, so uncomfortable with the entire situation. “I mean I don’t know how far away you live.”

“I live in a gated community off Mendenhall Street,” Louis says, his pen still scratching relentlessly. “The front gate code is 5847, type it in the box and the gates will open. The house number is 2728, you’ll find it, everything’s very spread out.”

“Jesus,” Harry breathes, his fingers scrambling to find a pen, “you don’t even know me and you’re handing out that kind of information?”

“I’ll be getting to know you, Mr. Styles,” Louis says cryptically before letting out a loud laugh. “Sorry that was too much, right?”

Harry smiles and wants to comment that Louis’ mood seems to be flipping like a switch but he bites his tongue. “Just a bit.”

“So I was thinking I’ll round up some candidates and we can interview them on Saturday, would that be alright with you?”

“It’s perfect, what time?”

“Four in the afternoon? I only work half-days on the weekends.”

“You work on the weekends?” Harry asks incredulously before remembering that he’s talking to _the_ Louis Tomlinson.

“I do,” Louis confirms, his voice calm. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, just interesting is all.” Harry twirls a strand of hair around his finger, pulling a little. “You’re very dedicated to your work.

“I am. And I should probably get back to it.”

“Of course, of course,” Harry mumbles, tearing his eyes away from the front window of the small waiting area of his studio. “Sorry to bother, it was the first chance I had to call.”

“No problem, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Harry goes to speak but the connection has already ended.

~*~

Louis’ gate buzzer rings at four PM on the dot, his eyes rolling a little as he lets in a tiny beat-up- is that an Oldsmobile? Louis actually wants to just punch himself in the face.

“Is that Aura, papa?” Charles asks from his left, his tiny hand coming up to pull the curtain open further. “I’m so excited!”

Louis smiles at his son, his hand coming to rest on his shoulder before leaning down and straightening Charles’ tie. “Now you’ll behave, right?”

“Of course, papa!” Charles sprints over to the door as soon as the bell rings, wrenching it open before pulling Aura into a fast hug.

“Charles!” Louis shouts, trying to keep his tone down so as not to scare Aura. “You ask before you touch someone.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Charlie’s’ Dad, we’re best friends.”

Louis smiles at her kindly before they run off hand-in-hand, grateful that she’s such a kind-hearted kid.

“Teaching consent from a young age, eh?” Harry asks, sliding a touch closer to Louis. “‘s sexy, I like it.”

Louis lets out a burst of laughter just seconds before Harry does, his hair falling loose from the material wrapped around his head. Louis thinks it’s supposed to be some kind of headband. “Well I’m not raising a hooligan, that’s for sure,” Louis mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Of course not, Louis,” Harry replies, probably just to indulge him. “You’ve got quite the place here though, no room for messing about, that’s for sure.” Harry does a little spin to survey the room, his tan-colored flipflops contrasting with the mahogany floors. “Two gates? This place made out of solid gold or something?”

Louis huffs and uncrosses his arms just to cross them again, his eyes rolling. “Sorry for caring about the safety of my family, Harold,” he says sarcastically, fingers itching to do something stupid like punch Harry in the face or run his fingers through his long, silky hair. Louis needs to get a fucking grip.

“Well not all of us can afford those kinds of luxuries, Lewis.”

“Honestly how old are you?” Louis questions, his pitch rising with this anger.

“You started it!” Harry practically shouts, his face blushing at his own words. “I’m twenty-three,” he says calmly, his voice returning to his usual honey-slow tone. “And how old are you, since we’re asking.”

“Twenty-eight,” Louis replies, his voice equally calm. It’s eery the mood swings that Harry seems to invoke in him. “Would you care for a beverage?”

Harry smirks, his hand coming up to run through his hair quickly before nodding. “Water please, if you have it.” Harry shakes his head as soon as the words are out. “Of course you’ve got water, I mean-”

“Harry, calm down,” Louis laughs, meandering into the kitchen to fetch a glass. He reaches into the cupboard and is happy to find that they’re still warm from the dishwasher that Rhonda had unloaded earlier. “Ice?”

“Please,” Harry says politely, stumbling along the hallway between the foyer and kitchen on too long legs, his pointer finger dancing across the photos lining the walls.

Louis watches him stop when he gets to the largest frame there, his hands bracing the counter to steel himself for the question that he’s sure will come.

“Is this Charlie’s mother?” Harry asks, his tone genuinely curious, but with a touch of sadness lingering around the words. So he knows. Louis doesn’t know how but he _knows_.

“His name is Charles,” Louis corrects immediately, fingers tightening around the smooth edge of the marble. “And yes, it is.”

“She’s beautiful,” Harry says carefully, his eyes roaming the other photos. Louis knows what he’s seeing; cascading chocolate-colored curls, bright hazel eyes and a smile that’s even brighter, legs that could go on for days attached to a lithe body. Louis knows it like the back of his hand. He just barely stops himself from comparing it to Harry’s own lean frame.

“She was,” Louis states, trying to convey how much he absolutely does not want to talk about this in each syllable.

Harry nods, his eyes soft. Louis wants to be sick. “I’m sorry for your-”

“Don’t.” Louis walks closer to hand him the glass, his eyes hard even as Harry’s long fingers wrap around his own, the condensation slipping between their palms. “Don’t say it.”

Five words. _I’m sorry for your loss_. Louis heard nothing but those words for months after Eleanor passed; soft eyes and even softer tones mumbling those five fucking words every time Louis was around, walking on eggshells like he couldn’t do a single damn thing because she died.

He was sad. He _is_ sad. He cried. He did nothing but cry and cradle their newborn for weeks after the funeral, his eyes welling at the sight of her pictures until he eventually had his mother take the frames down.

He’s done grieving. They knew it could happen when she was pregnant, but El had insisted on keeping the baby despite Louis’ hesitation.

It’s over now, though. He can’t change the past, and people telling him that they’re _sorry for his loss_ are doing absolutely _nothing_ to help.

The buzzer breaks the tension.

Harry jumps a little, but Louis simply floats to the door, pressing the button to open the gate.

“First candidate,” he says quietly.

Harry just nods and suddenly the sounds of Aura and Charles playing upstairs come flooding through Louis’ ears, their airy voices mixing with giggles and manufactured truck sounds. He smiles a little at that, happy that Charles has found someone to be his friend; Louis knows deep down that his son has always struggled with that, never coming home with birthday party invitations, his own parties always being sad affairs with family and Louis’ few friends being the only ones in attendance.

Harry takes it upon himself to open the door when the bell rings and Louis tries not to be embarrassed by his acquaintance's fashion choices. Light blue bellbottoms combined with another hideous flowered shirt seems to be what he pulled from his _Seventies Styles_ closet this morning, the velvet brown headband holding his hair back failing miserably at it’s one job.

“Good afternoon,” Harry greets the girl, his dimples making an appearance for the first time since he’d walked through the door.

The girl, Kaitlyn, he thinks, steps through the threshold, eyes rounding as she gazes around the room.

“Hi,” she says timidly, reaching out to shake Harry’s hand. Louis makes his way closer so he can greet her formally as well, making a note of the weakness of her handshake. She could use a few doses of confidence.

“I’m Louis Tomlinson,” he states, for the record, not wanting her to report back Harry’s description with his name tacked on. He’s got a reputation to uphold.

“And I’m Harry Styles,” Harry says belatedly, mocking Louis’ tone just a touch. Louis shoots him daggers.

Louis steps towards the living room. “Charles!” Louis calls up the staircase, hands resting on the wood as he waits for a response. He glances over his shoulder to find Harry and Kaitlyn talking quietly to each other, Harry pointing at her shoes while exclaiming something or another. God, what has he gotten himself into. The things he’ll do for his kid.

“Charles!” Louis shouts again, and this time it’s immediately followed by the sounds of feet pattering against wood. He nods Harry and Kaitlyn towards the couch, ushering the children in that general direction when they reach the landing.

“Kaitlyn, this is Charles and Aura,” Louis introduces, hovering a hand over each head as he says their names.

Louis watches proudly as Charles stumbles over to shake her hand, Aura simply opting for a gentle wave.

“Well it’s lovely to meet you!” Kaitlyn says faux excitedly, probably for the children’s sake. At least her confidence is growing. “I love your hair.” She points at Aura’s braided rat’s nest, Louis barely holding back a scoff at Harry’s proud preening.

“She did it herself,” he informs the group as a whole as if everyone couldn’t tell.

The five of them chat for about thirty minutes, and the girl seems nice enough, but there’s no real spark that Louis was hoping for. Louis leads her to the door with a gentle _we’ll let you know_ , trying to ignore the dejected look on her face.

“So what did you lot think?” He asks Harry and the kids, popping into the kitchen for refreshments before returning with a tray of lemonade. He wonders briefly where Rhonda is before remembering that she only works half days on the weekend. He misses her greatly.

“She’s okay I guess.” Charles kicks his foot against the floor gently, taking the plastic cup he’s offered.

Aura seems to think for a moment, her eyes closed as she contemplates. “Her shoes were very, very pretty,” she decides eventually.

Harry grins. “That’s what I told her!” He reaches across the coffee table to high five his daughter, before passing her a cup of lemonade. “Cute but comfortable, very practical,” the man muses, head tilted a little to the side like he’s trying to remember the details.

Oh jesus fucking christ, Louis’ not going to make it.

*

Their next potential nanny arrives fifteen minutes later- a lovely girl with a shock of bright red hair that reaches down her back, eyes bright and green. She seemed nice enough, but Louis wasn’t exactly thrilled.

She left after twenty minutes because she forgot about a hair appointment, Louis marked her as a _no_ simply for being unprofessional.

*

“Alright up next is Noah and he should be here soon,” Louis says, double checking the name with the list he has typed on his iPad. “Then the last one’s Cara-”

“Hey!” Aura interrupts, wide eyes turning to look at Harry. “That’s my momma’s name!”

Harry looks white as a sheet, forcing a smile and a nod in his daughter’s direction. “It’s not her, sunshine,” he tells her softly, face looking shellshocked. That’s…. interesting.

“It could be, though,” Aura insists, pulling a little at Harry’s knee to get his attention. Harry just places a placating hand on her head until she gives up, turning back to Charles to color in the books Louis brought down from the craft room.

Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen Harry like this, not that he’s known him for long. But he feels bad about the expression on his face and kind of wants it to be gone. Like, right now.

“Cara Johnson?” Louis asks, scooting a little closer to Harry to keep their voices down. “That’s the girl’s name, I don’t think it’s-”

“It’s not,” Harry breathes, the wind gushing out of him in relief. “She doesn’t even live around here, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Louis rubs a hand over his leg to calm him down but looks away when Harry glances up, unable to meet his eyes. _Why does he want to touch this man all the time?_ Jesus christ, he needs to get it together.

The doorbell rings half a minute later, Louis popping up to answer it, happy that he just decided to leave the gate open while they’re having so many visitors.

He glances at Harry before he pulls the door open, not entirely surprised to see his sunny disposition returning.

“Hi!’ A voice says cheerfully to the back of Louis’ head. Louis twists back around to face the man, shaking his hand- strong, firm grip- briefly before ushering him inside. “Hello, all,” he greets the room as a whole, stepping over to the couch to shake Harry’s hand as he stands. “I’m Noah, it’s so great to meet you.”

“Well hello, Noah,” Louis hears Harry speak lowly, goosebumps rising on Louis’ arms at his tone. _Where the fuck did that come from_?

He glances at Harry from the corner of his eye only to find Noah and Harry’s hands still locked in an embrace, barely moving an inch up and down as they practically eye-fuck. What in the-

‘Wow,” Harry mutters, finally releasing their _interviewee’s_ hand, “you’re aura is just… incredible.” Harry’s eyes are wide with wonder, his mouth slightly open in surprise. Louis wants to die.

“It’s pretty amazing, daddy,” Aura says from the floor, her eyes lingering between the two men’s bodies.

Harry nods in agreement, finally taking his place on the couch while Louis contemplates running into the kitchen for an impromptu vodka shot.

“So, Noah, tell us about yourself,” Louis instructs, finally gathering his wits as he makes his way to sit beside Harry. If he sits a few inches closer than before, no one has to know.

“Well I’m from Santa Barbara originally, but I’m attending UCSF to get my bachelor’s degree. I’m studying marine biology there, with a minor in history. I’m twenty-one so I’ll be graduating next May and then I’ll hopefully find a place around here to settle in.” He shrugs. “Yeah, I mean I think that’s it.”

“What would your average weekend consist of?” Louis asks, going into full interviewer mode, just like with the other two.

“Um, let’s see.” Noah places a finger against his chin, like he’s carefully considering unlike the other two girls that spout off something about studying and going to bed by ten. “I’d probaby surf in the mornings until lunch, then I’d go hang out with some friends for a few hours, maybe have a beer or two with dinner, watch some Netflix and then pass out around one?” Noah shrugs. He does that a lot, Louis notes. “I’m not a super interesting person.”

“I think you’re fantastic,” Harry pipes up. Louis glances over to find that the man has his elbows resting on his knees while he listens attentively. “What are your thoughts on God as an actual, physical being, do you think she’s-”

“Let’s not get into that debate,” Louis mutters, placing a hand on Harry’s thigh again. “We can save that for another time.”

Noah’s eyes dart down at the movement, gaze burning a hole straight through Louis’ hand. Louis meant for the touch to be placating, just something in passing, to be brushed under the rug as banter. He doesn’t move an inch.

Neither does Harry, surprisingly.

~*~

"Make sure you give me a call," Noah says to Harry, grinning at his blush. "Regardless of how this all turns out."

Harry smiles, eyes moving up and down Noah's body one more time. Blue eyes, blond hair... definitely a surfer's body; Harry’s all kinds of down with this. Not to be, like, objectifying. Harry is sure that there will be a beautiful soul to go along with that beautiful face. But until they get to know each other… "Will do." Harry’s briefly happy that Aura and Charlie retired to the playroom after their interview finished up, Louis allotting them exactly thirty minutes before Cara will be arriving.

Harry hears a scoff from behind his left shoulder, glancing back at Louis to find him with his arms crossed, tapping his foot against the floor impatiently. For a full grown man he’s very immature.

Harry glances down at the numbers scrawled across his wrist, smiling a bit. It was cute- and probably unnecessary, given that Louis is bound to have his contact information- but he’s giddy with excitement and few people want to take Harry on dates once they realize that Aura, like, exists. "Talk to you later, Noah," Harry mumbles, laughing as Noah bows his way out of the house, taking the steps backwards as he gazes at Harry. He's an interesting and beautiful man.

"So you're gay or something?" Harry hears first thing as he turns around, Louis standing in the exact same position as before. Harry clenches his jaw as the door snicks closed, tossing Louis an annoyed look. Very few things get under his skin the way that bigotry does.

"Is that a problem for you?" Harry asks snarkily, immediately on the defense.

Louis looks genuinely shocked, as if his comment was just going to be brushed off as a joke or something. Well. He’s got a big storm coming. “But you have Aura-”

“Yes and she would be just as much my daughter if I was straight,” Harry cuts in, so tired of the _traditional family_ bullshit. “Her mother and I were together when she was conceived, I discovered I was gay, she left. It’s not _that_ uncommon, Louis. You’re being really closed-minded right now.”

Louis shrugs his shoulders a little, reaching down for his lemonade. “I mean I don’t know what I expected with all… this.” His hands wave about in Harry’s general direction.

Harry takes a deep breath in, blowing out through his nose as he lets it all sink in. Judgemental, mocking, vaguely homophobic. “Aura! We’re leaving!” Harry calls, ignoring the immediate protests that start flowing through the half-open door at the top of the stairs.

“Hey, Harry, no,” Louis starts, taking three quick steps closer to Harry. He wants to take three steps backwards but he holds his ground. “I’m not good with, like, emotions, okay? I didn’t know what to say, humor’s my… I dunno, it’s my escape route or something.” He ran a quick hand through his hair, pulling a little at the roots as Harry’s eyes shift from the stairs to the door, biting a little at his lip. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just not used to people like you, I guess.”

“Like me?” Harry asks, feeling a little incredulous. “Gay?”

“No, no, no!” Louis’ quick to shut that down. Harry wonders why Aura can’t listen to him, her voice still ringing from the playroom. “I mean, like, free-spirited?” Harry crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re so open, you know? You don’t care about sharing such huge parts of your life like Aura and your family situation and your sexualiity. You’re so in the moment and everyone I’m used to being around plays their cards so close to their chests, right?” Louis takes a sip of his lemonade, hand shaking for some reason. “I wish I could be more like you, okay? But I’m not.”

Harry nods a little, his defenses crumbling. “Well, stick around with Aura and I and we’ll get you loosened out.”

Louis smiles.

“I’d quite like that, I think.”

~*~

_Yes, I’m stuck in the middle with you,_

_and I’m wondering what it is I should do._

~*~

They chose Noah. They chose _fucking Noah_.

Louis isn’t bitter, not at all.

He’s _appalled_. He’s trying his hardest to like Harry, sage-burning rituals ( _yes, seriously_ ) and all, but it’s getting increasingly difficult when their nanny is Harry’s new _boyfriend_.

Maybe not boyfriends; Louis doesn’t know how you would label someone that you eye-fuck into oblivion over your child’s head, he’s not sure what tips Cosmo would have for that kind of relationship. He’s not bitter.

“Charles!” Louis calls from his bedroom, three doors down from his son, already having informed Liam that he’ll be late for work today in order to get the new nanny situated. It’s six-thirty in the morning, Louis deserves a fucking medal. “Char-” Louis cuts himself off, opting to just march march down the hallway to move his son along.

“Why don’t I have any dresses, papa?” Charles asks as soon as Louis’ stepped through the door to his room, eyes locking on his son who’s stood in front of his chest of drawers in only his underwear.

_Oh god, why today?_

“Why do you want to wear a dress, love?” Louis asks gently, wanting to both deconstruct the gender binary and hurry his kid up because Harry and Aura will be here in ten minutes, Noah arriving in forty. “What’s wrong with what I laid out last night?”

“My neck hurts from this part,” he mumbles, flicking his tiny fingers at the collar of a light blue button-up. “And Aura gets to wear boy clothes, why can’t I wear girl clothes?”

Louis shakes his head, trying not to smile at the genuine distress in his son’s tone. “Charles you can wear whatever you want to, if you want to get some dresses I’ll take you shopping this weekend,” he places the button-up and khakis into his son’s arms, gently, “but for now we need you dressed so you can play with Aura in a few minutes, okay?”

Charles obeys, pulling on an undershirt before dressing as quick as his stubby little fingers will allow. "Papa, what are we gonna do with Noah today?"

Louis tries very, very hard not to roll his eyes at the sound of the man’s name and he only contains himself for his son's sake. He doesn't even know why he's paying out of his ass for this teenager (anyone below twenty-two is _too young_ , okay) to watch his child but it's what Charles wants, and what Aura wants, and what _fucking_ Harry wants so he's willing to sacrifice. He doesn't even know where this aversion for blond-haired surfer boys came from but it's most certainly a _thing_.

"Ask Harry," Louis grumbles before he realizes he's being a dick to his child as Charles starts pouting. "He might take you to a museum," Louis offers, pulling down on Charles' khakis until they're less high-waters and more comfortable.

Louis grins as his son’s eyes light up, his fingers moving of their own accord to finish up the buttons lining the front of Charles' shirt. "Which one, papa?"

Louis waves a vague hand around, trying to remember the name of a place he hasn't been to in years. "The one with the, like, dinosaurs and stuff innit?" Louis half-guesses, running a comb over Charles' closely-cropped hair until everything is in place, deciding not to even focus on what a mess his own hair probably is right now. "Let me go-"

He's cut off as the doorbell rings, Charles pulling him out of his room and down the stairs as fast as his legs can carry them.

Once they reach the landing, Charles runs ahead of Louis to jerk open the door, his fingers unlocking the bolts with too much skill for a six-year-old.

Aura's tiny body slams into his son as soon as they see each other, arms coming to wrap around Charles' shoulders as if she hadn't last seen him less than two days ago.

Harry gives Charles a pat on the head in passing, beelining to the kitchen. Louis follows curiously.

"Where might one find a tea kettle in this palace," Harry wonders, half to himself, half to Louis. He picks his way through the cabinets before Louis can answer, digging three tea bags out of his pocket to place on the kitchen island.

"There's coffee," Louis informs him, walking over to the machine to pour himself a cup.

"Have you got any creamer to go in that muck?" Harry asks, gesturing to the coffee grounds settling at the bottom of the pot. What? He likes it strong.

Louis shakes his head but he has a feeling Harry already knew that answer. "Got sugar," he offers, pointing to the second largest in a collection of very aesthetically pleasing jars lining the back wall of his counter.

Harry makes a, frankly offensive, disgusted face, finally finding the kettle from beneath the counter. He fills it with water before placing it on the stove top. "I'm only gonna guess on how this fancy thing works," he mumbles, turning one of the six knobs slowly to release the gas. He comments, "This can't be safe for children,” before jumping back a bit as the fire ignites on the far burner, hand slamming against the dial to turn it off. Louis simply watches, not trying terribly hard to keep the amused grin off his face. Harry seems to be able to put the pieces together as to which knobs ignite which burner, though, smiling proudly when the next flame turns on and starts to lick around the metal edges of the kettle. Louis claps loudly, probably making too much noise since it's just barely a quarter to seven.

"I'm really digging your whole... bed-head look. Very nice, subtle, boyish charm you've got going there." Harry tugs at the bottom of Louis' t-shirt and he can't even find the energy to slap his hand away, instead opting to take a sip of his coffee and three steps back after a beat too long.

"It's been a very long morning, Styles," Louis informs him, finally giving in to his impulse to run a hand through his hair. He knows it’s sticking out in all directions and forces himself to simply own the look. "Charles is, like, exploring his feminine side, I dunno." Harry quirks an eyebrow and Louis refrains from commenting that Harry ought to be able to lend a hand on this particular topic. He tries very hard not to stare at the very blouse-like top he’s sporting, jean shorts inching higher up his thighs as he moves. "He wants a dress like Aura’s and I told him I can take him shopping this weekend for some, would you two want to come along?" Louis knows it's a long shot what with the Summer Solstice approaching; Louis' sure Harry'll be busy sacrificing to the sun gods or something equally repulsive.

"I've actually got a date with Noah on Saturday," Harry mumbles, opening and closing all of Louis' cabinets until he can find the one with the mugs. "But I was hoping that you could actually watch Aura for a while that night anyway?" Louis' face must look as incredulous as he feels because Harry's eyes turn pleading as he places his cup on the counter by his tea bags. "I mean, I know it's a lot to ask and I would normally _never_ ask so much from one person, but our kids get along so well and I've not been out on a date in _ages_ , much less gotten any, you know, _sex_." He’s rambling a bit but Louis leaves him be, his irritation growing into faint amusement. “My friend’s out of town this week for some convention thing so he can’t help out like he normally would and I’m not sure how to find another sitter in just a few days, especially with, like, planning an interview and finding someone reliable and it _is_ the busiest season for them and it’s so _expensive_ -”

“Harry it’s _fine_ ,” Louis cuts him off, reaching for a scone that Rhonda must have baked when she got in this morning. She is a _goddess_ , they’re still warm. He offers Harry one but shrugs and keeps it for himself when the man only scrunches his nose. “I don’t mind, they can have a sleepover or something, it’s whatever.” Louis tries to quell down the part inside of him that wants to yell _Can you not see how unprofessional this is??? You can’t sleep with the nanny!!!_ He survives just barely.

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Harry cheers before turning serious as he carefully places a tea bag into his cup, pouring the now-boiling water into his mug. "Tea's much better for you than coffee, didn't you know?" Harry asks, apparently keen on being as obnoxious as possible despite the favor that Louis' just agreed to. "Less addictive and it doesn't stain your teeth."

Louis smiles grotesquely at Harry just to be annoying, taking a large gulp of his coffee before planting his cup back on the counter and heading into the living room.

The kids are playing with something or another that Rhonda’s brought out, so Louis leaves Harry behind, finally making his way back to his room to get dressed.

He tries to be fast but quick changes have never exactly been his forte. He nearly gasps when he walks past the mirror, realizing that he's still not changed from his pajamas. Fuck, Harry's seen him in his Spider-Man pants. Sometimes he's amazed at his own idiocracy.

He dresses quickly enough, throwing on a lavender button-up with a pair of dark slacks, rolling his sleeves up to his elbow. It's Casual Day at the office, and he does not take it lightly. He stuffs his bare feet into a pair of Oxfords because he's a classy, classy man, but socks are a thing of the devil, he's absolutely positive. He tries to do a quiff with his hair but after ten minutes he gives up and does the little twist thing that Liam calls the cinnamon swirl. He tries not to feel like his life is slowly falling apart.

Harry wolf whistles as Louis walks back downstairs, Aura giggling from her place on his lap, Noah grinning from his spot at Harry's right (he must have snuck in while Louis was getting dressed, he hopes Harry at least let Rhonda answer the door, it’s kind of her job).

Charles is smiling happily from his perch on his new nanny's lap, Noah bouncing his leg a little to pop him up and down. Louis feels irrationally jealous at how carefree his son is around everyone but himself. He tries to contain it, but he _does_ feel a little bit bitter about this entire situation.

Louis pushes everything to the back of his mind as he shows Noah around the house, though, pointing out where things he might need are, informing him of Rhonda’s general schedule and what her job as a housekeeper entails. Noah nods along with everything, writing things down when he feels like he needs to.

And the thing is. The thing is is that he’s actually a really, really nice person. But Louis hates him a bit.

“Harry?” Louis asks as they make their way back to the living room after showing Noah around upstairs (Charles’ bedroom, the playroom, the craft room, the music room, the spare bedroom, Charles’ bathroom, the linen closet). Noah looks just a touch overwhelmed, but he’s still here and Louis supposes that that’s all that really matters. “Anything else you’d like to add before we head out?”

“Aura does mid-afternoon yoga every day. Don’t worry about helping her, she knows the moves.” Aura nods silently, concurring. “We’re both vegetarian, so try to keep that in mind for lunches and if I need to I can pack her some-”

“We can work with that this weekend,” Louis chimes in. “Aura if you’d like to, you can stay with us on Saturday while your daddy goes, uh, out and I’ll take you shopping for some things to keep here?” The girl grins and Louis hopes she’s not a pricey eater (not that it would stop him from buying whatever she could possibly want; it’s the eyes, they suck you in).

“You don’t need to-”

“Hush, Harold.” Louis sits gingerly on the couch, a soft smile pulling at his lips as his son crawls into his lap. “We’ll get it sorted.”

“We try to avoid processed foods,” Harry adds after a beat of half-glaring, half-pouting at Louis. “And if she gets a tummy ache from eating something with a lot of sugar, let her do some digestion yoga. If it doesn’t get better, you can call me but it normally passes.” Noah nods seriously, but there’s a fond smile pulling at his lips.

 _Louis_ ’ gonna have a tummy ache from their sickening looks.

“Well we ought to get going,” Louis announces abruptly. “Harry’ll need to be getting to work, I’ve got some cases to work on. Busy, busy, busy!” And to think, Louis thought he’d grown out of his obnoxious phase.

“Of course, of course!” Noah nods his head, standing up to shake Louis’ hand again before ushering the kids into the kitchen to get started on some breakfast, chattering on and on about the _most important meal of the day!!_

“You’re being weird,” Harry comments, leaning down to pull on the shoes that he must have kicked off earlier. Louis’ both happy that Harry feels at home here and offended that he could ever purchase those hideously gold boots.

Louis rolls his eyes, anyway. “ _You’re_ being weird,” he counters, brushing his hands over his thighs before standing. “I can’t believe we’re leaving our kids here with a virtual _stranger_.”

“Not a stranger.” Harry stands up to his full height and _god_ Louis wishes he were taller. “We’ve been texting, he’s a great guy.”

“He doesn’t seem like a bad kid,” Louis admits, grinning when the subtle jab at Noah’s age lands.

"You know he's only two years younger than me, right? That's less than _our_ age difference.”

"Yeah but I'm not trying to woo you, Harold." Louis thinks that might actually depend on the definition of 'woo' but he doesn't mention it.

Harry quirks an eyebrow, sly smile on his face. "You're not? Not even a little?"

"I'm not even _gay_ ," Louis informs him. He might be... intrigued, but Louis isn't gay, he was with a woman he loved very much for four years. He's not _gay._

Harry's eyebrows practically disappear into his hair and Louis tries very hard not to be offended. "You don't like men?"

"I was married to Eleanor!" Louis bursts, wondering how the fuck everyone draws that conclusion regardless of his past. "I have a child!"

"I have a child."

"Your situation is unique."

"Not _that_ unique." Harry stalks to the door only giving Louis a few seconds to follow before walking out, calling his goodbyes to Aura. "I mean it's interesting that Cara is gay too, I suppose-"

"She's gay?" Harry nods. "You're both gay?"

"We were young, she was the first girl I had sex with. The _only_ girl I had sex with-"

"So you knew you were gay after that?"

"Well we tried a few more times. Thinking it was just the timing or the mood or something." Harry shrugs. "It wasn't the best, but it was something. Obviously."

"I mean the kid happened so you had to have been a little into it."

"I was seventeen, I was 'into it' if the wind blew the right way." Harry laughs, stopping at the driver's' side of his car. "I mean the best thing to ever happen to me came out of it."

"What do you- oh right," Louis pulls his keys from his pocket, patting himself down to check for the necessities. Phone? Check. Wallet? Check. iPad? Check. Confidence in his sexuality? Check-ish. "You mean Aura."

"Yes I mean Aura, idiot." Harry smiles, untangling his sunglasses from his mass of hair before placing them atop his nose. "We ought to swap conception stories sometime."

Louis snorts, rolling his eyes. "Popular conversation topic at Mommy and me meetings?"

"Maybe," Harry says cryptically, "when we're not discussing the best vibrator techniques, that is."

Louis balks because now there's the image of Harry laying on his bed with _things_ in his ass, surrounded by something stupid like hand-dipped candles or _incense_ and he never, ever thought that would be something he would think about.

He doesn't have to worry about coming up with something witty to say, thankfully, because two seconds later Harry's sliding into his car and rumbling and bumping his way down the driveway.

Louis needs a moment before he gets behind the wheel.

~*~

“Okay now I need you all to arch your back carefully, if you can,” Harry says to his current group, his voice honey-slow and calm. “Now I want you to move from the cobra to the downward dog, keep your movements nice and slow, you’re looking absolutely great Maggie!” Harry glances up from his current position, surveying the room as a whole. There’s been so much improvement, he’s honestly never been this impressed. “Now we’re going right into a front right-leg lunge, keep your movements nice and fluid, everything should be flowing smoothly.” His arms are shaking a little from the burn in his biceps, his advanced pilates class definitely starting to take its toll. “Now we’re moving into a forward fold- that’s it you guys, try to touch your toes, but only if you can, we want you to stick with your own range of motion, always.” The music flowing from the speakers is slowly dying out, the calming ocean sounds growing fainter as they finish up their cool down. “Now let’s raise our arms to the sky for our total body stretch, we want you lengthening the body and pushing all of your negative energy out through your fingertips.” Harry straightens his arms, the conversation he had with Louis seeming less and less earth-shattering as he stretches. Harry as a date this weekend. A date. _This weekend_. That’s all that matters. That’s all he should be worried about. “Finally let's move back into our mountain pose, keep your feet planted on the ground, palms coming to touch right in front of your chest, perfect, perfect.”

The music finally fades out, Harry picking up his mallet to hit the small gong by his side lightly, signaling the end of class.

“You were all perfect, I’ll see you all on Thursday, right?”

There’s a chorus of affirmations and Harry grins. He loves his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i've got about 18k written and I'm running low on inspiration... hit me up on tumblr (arrowinheart) if u wanna chat/force me to write/tell me what to do, I'm always up for it!!  
> I hope you liked it :)  
> <3


	3. III

By Friday, they have a routine.

Harry drops off Aura, sometimes sneaking a peck on Noah’s cheek when Louis’ back’s turned.

Louis and Harry leave for work together.

Harry goes to Louis’ after closing up the yoga studio around five.

Harry hangs out with Noah and Charlie until Louis gets home whenever he can (which is getting increasingly earlier, Harry thinks).

Then Harry leaves with Aura and Noah leaves _by himself_ and Louis actually cooks dinner for him and his son.

Then they repeat.

It’s a nice system and after Harry brings himself tea two days in a row, Louis decides to buy a box of green tea to keep on the counter. Just in case.

On Thursday, Harry comes with empty pockets and smiles to himself while he puts on the kettle.

~*~

“Alrighty then, dresses, dresses,” Louis mumbles to himself, trying his hardest not to feel so _weird_ about this situation. He’s got Aura and Charles in his backseat, strapped into their respective booster seats and he’s pulling onto the interstate. “Got any ideas, buddy?” He asks his son, eyeing him in the rearview mirror. He glances at Aura too, her socked feet bouncing against the leather of the interior. An aversion to shoes must run in the Styles’ blood.

“I dunno, papa,” Charles declares, throwing his hands up in the typical hyperbolic children’s motion.

Aura leans over to pat his son’s hand. “You’ll get whatever feels right, I’m sure of it,” she says seriously, her eyes wide and sincere. Louis would laugh if he didn’t feel like crying.

There’s no one more accepting of the abnormal than children. No child more free-spirited and sincere than Aura Styles.

He turns up the music, some KidzBop track that Louis would rather gouge his ears out than listen to, but the kids are mumbling along happily, so he leaves it be.

He takes the exit for the mall five minutes later, pulling into The Gap because now that he’s actually doing this he has no idea _how_ to do this.

“Here we are, I suppose.” He helps the kids out of the car, Aura crawling over Charles before Louis’ even turned off the ignition, her fingers deftly working around the straps of her seat.

“You’re going to look so _pretty_!” She giggles, pulling Charles’ hand towards the store as soon as Louis’ released his seatbelt.

Louis follows closely, eyes following the two heads of brown hair as they bob and weave their way through the aisles, Louis calling out directions on where to turn from a few feet back.

When they get to the children’s clothes, Louis tries not to be annoyed by the distinct seas of pink and blue that differentiate the boy’s clothing from the girl’s. Aura doesn’t seem to mind, though, pulling his son by the hand past the few patrons that are around until she comes to a stop in front of a random rack of dresses.

“Frilly ones are my favorite,” she informs both Louis and Charles, “but you can get whatever you like.”

Charles thumbs through the fabric, his fingers lingering on more than a few before turning away and heading for a different rack. Aura follows, a grin stretched across her face.

“Papa?” Charles asks a few minutes later, pulling on the skirt of light-washed dress.

“Charles, no,” Louis says without thinking, “it’s- it’s denim, for Christ’s sake.” He bends down to pull the dress from his son’s fingers. “Denim dresses are _very_ last season.” He cracks a smile when Aura nods seriously in agreement. “Now this one,” he takes a teal, collared, pleated dress from the rack placed just to his son’s right. “This one just _screams_ Charles Tomlinson.”

Aura claps excitedly, running her fingers over the cotton as his son inspects the choice.

“It’s so pretty papa.” Louis lays the dress carefully over his arm. “Can we get it?”

“Let’s try it on first, yeah?” Louis asks. “Sizing might be different, so it’ll help, okay?”

Charles nods before running off with Aura, hand in hand.

~*~

By three o'clock that afternoon Charles had picked out four different dresses, with the help of Louis and Aura, of course.

By six o'clock they were home and Louis had a fridge full of groceries with Aura's name neatly printed on the packaging.

By ten o'clock the kids were in bed and Louis was left wondering how in the hell his life had gotten to this point.

At midnight Louis still hasn't received a call from Harry so he downs his bourbon, sneaks into his son’s room to kiss Charles and Aura on the forehead, and slips into his own cold, lonely bed.

~*~

"Feel like I should call."

Noah groans again, his pace slowing only a fraction.

"Harry I am literally inside you right now."

"You're right, you're right," Harry agrees, not that he could _not_ agree, he- he knows Noah is inside him and it's- it's great it really, really is, but Harry can't get in the mood knowing Aura went to sleep without hearing how much he loves her. "But maybe-"

Noah lets out another grumble but he slips out anyway, Harry letting out a laugh in relief. "Call them." Noah tosses the condom into the bin by Harry's bed, rolling back onto Harry's chest to rest his chin on his left peck. "But when you're done... We're finishing this."

Harry grins when Noah starts biting at his jaw, taking a moment to run his fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck before leaning over to grab his phone. "It'll be two seconds, promise."

The line rings for about a minute before going to voicemail. He tries again.

"It's after midnight, they're probably a-"

"Hello?"

The voice is tinny through the line, Noah's voice slipping to the background as Harry focuses on Louis.

"Hiiii, it's Harry."

"Yeah, caller ID is pretty standard these days," Louis comments, his voice slowing getting back to normal as he fully wakes up.

"I wanted to say goodnight to Aura and I know- I mean I hope they're asleep-"

"They are," Louis confirms.

"Do you think I could tell them goodnight?"

"I think it's late, Harry." There's a rustling on Louis' end though and Harry knows he's caving.

"Time just got away from us-"

"Is Noah there?"

Harry glances down at the man, his chin propped up by his fists, lips pursing and unpursing in tiny air kisses.

"No," he lies to Louis. He regrets it almost immediately, a swoop in his gut as Noah starts pecking at his chest, unaware.

"Interesting," Louis says cryptically, but Harry can sense a smile in his words. "I'm heading into Charles' room."

"Are they sleeping together?"

"They're so tangled I don't know if I can find Aura." Harry hears the snick of the door, the only sound other than Louis' breathing down the line. "Oh my god, they're holding hands. I'm taking a picture of this." There's more sounds of shuffling followed by a tiny beep as Louis turns on a camera. "I hope the flash doesn't wake them."

Harry smiles to himself at Louis' genuine giddiness, sticking a tongue out at Noah as he raises his eyebrows in question. "Can you wake Aura without waking Charlie?"

" _Charles_ is a good, strong name," Louis grumbles. "That's a future president's name, not _Charlie_. Charlie is the name of a quitter not a president."

"Quite a bit of pressure to put on a six-year-old," Harry comments, trying to contain his laugh. "I think Charlie will be just fine."

"Oh, you do talk some shit sometimes," Louis grumbles between soft whispers of Aura's name. Harry hears the rustling of sheets and smiles as he pictures Aura's lips smacking the sleep from her mouth, tired eyes creeping open. "Your daddy wants to talk to you, sweetheart."

Harry's face softens even more at her little squeal, hands fumbling with the phone.

"Hi daddy!"

"Hello, love," Harry says softly. "Sorry I didn't call earlier, I was a bit tied up."

"We'll have to try that too," Noah mumbles from his perch on Harry's chest, giving the side of Harry's thigh a light smack at his affronted gasp. "Later," he promises.

"Daddy?" Aura's voice sounds worried and Harry snaps out of it.

"I just wanted to say goodnight and that I love you, okay?"

"Ditto, daddy. Lou Lou wants the phone so I'm going to give it back now, okay?"

"Alright, sunshine, sleep well okay?"

"Will do, sunshine." Louis' voice is amused.

"Thanks, Lou Lou," Harry remarks, mimicking his daughter.

"I can't believe you let her say 'ditto,' I'm sorry is it the 90s again?"

"I'm going to hang up now," Harry warns, even if he's smiling just a little.

"Alright, bro," Louis laughs, voice adopting a Californian accent that sounds remarkably similar to Noah's. "Catch you on the flip-"

Harry hangs up.

~*~

_It's so hard to keep this smile from my face,  
losing control, yeah, I'm all over the place._

~*~

“You have so much anger,” Harry says calmly, his hand pressed lightly over Louis’ chest, “and it’s centered right here, in your heart chakra.”

Louis pushes his hand away, taking three steps back from Harry. “You can’t bring a _dog_ here and expect my son to _not_ get emotionally attached to it!”

“Okay but- and hear me out here-” Harry leans his head down to nuzzle the furry neck of the mutt in his hand. “We could keep it. Joint custody. We would like holidays- but- Thanksgiving is all yours.”

“I call Mondays!” Aura pipes up from her spot on the couch, her knees digging into the leather. “And Wednesdays!”

“But _I_ want Wednesdays!” Charles whines, body mirroring Aura’s. “Papa, please!”

“I haven’t even agreed to all this!” Louis points out, shaking a finger at the puppy curled into Harry’s embrace. “I don’t have the time for a dog!”

“Rhonda can help!” Harry cheers, taking the puppy’s paws and doing a little dance. “I already asked, she said yes!”

“So you’ve been planning this?”

“No,” Harry kicks a box behind the couch, “not exactly.”

“So what’s this then?” Harry tries to stop him, but Louis’ dodges out of his grasp to lunge for the box. “You brought supplies!” He sifts through the box quickly, noting that everything is doubled, silently hoping Harry didn’t actually go out and spend his money on this. “Collars, leashes, toys, bath stuff… You didn’t have to buy all this.”

“I mean I thought we could at least come prepared.”

“Vegetarian dog food?” Louis quirks an eyebrow, frowning. “Oh come on, don’t subject the poor dog to your weird, meatless ways.”

“So you’re in?”

Louis takes a hesitant look around the living room, completely and utterly not-surprised to find Harry, Aura, and Charles all lined up on the couch, lips pursed into a pout, eyes wide. Louis grabs the puppy. “I’m mad at you, Harold, but I can’t say no to- what’re we gonna name her?"

"It's a boy- not that we have any right to gender helpless animals, of course- but I like Cloud. Maybe Happy."

"You don't name a dog Happy, Harold, don't be ridiculous!"

"I like Brick," Aura announces to the room at large.

"You two with your strange names, I swear to God." He eyes Charles, the boy's eyes fixed firmly on the pup tucked under Louis' bicep. "You have anything to throw in, Charles?"

"Felix."

There's a moment of silence while everyone ponders the name.

"I could _definitely_ see him as a Felix." Harry reaches over Aura's head to give him a high five. "Solid choice, my friend."

Charles grins under the attention, slapping his palm against Harry's much larger one. "He looks like a Felix."

"He looks like the runt of the litter, if we're being honest," Louis comments. "Really, where did you find him Harry?"

"We rescued him!" Aura shouts before Harry has even the chance to open his mouth. "He followed us home from the store! Twice! So daddy let us keep him."

"It was kind of like fate then, huh?" Louis strokes a light hand over Felix's back, his short, brown and white hair clearly freshly washed and brushed. "I think he'll make a nice addition to our little ragtag team."

Harry grins, his face lighting up like a kid in a candy store. “I _knew_ you’d love him!”

“It’s true,” Aura concurs, “he knew. He said it.”

~*~

“Liam, dear!” Louis calls half a second before stepping into his partner’s office. “We’re going to lunch.”

“Well if you’d ask nicely-”

“Chop chop!” Louis interrupts, snapping his fingers together because he knows Liam hates it. “We’ll need to make a stop on the way back if you don’t mind.”

“Well I have a-”

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would.”

Louis pulls the door closed behind himself, stopping by his office to pick up his keys before heading into the reception area. “Lydia, we’re heading out for lunch, you’ll hold down the fort won’t you?”

Lydia smiles and nods an affirmation, raising a petite hand in a shy wave as Liam comes down the hallway. “Don’t forget your appointment with Dr. Ross at three, Mr. Payne!”

“Of course, of course.” Liam types something into his phone, only glancing up for a moment to check that Louis’ there and actually ready on time. “Thanks Linda!” He calls, walking backwards until his back bumps the door to push it open. He holds it for Louis, not that he deserves it, probably, and finally pockets his phone.

“Oh my god,” Louis gasps when Liam’s words finally register. “Her name is Linda?”

“Yeah?” Liam pulls the passenger door open to Louis’ car that’s parallel-parked on the curb. It was a shitty parking job but it’s the thought that counts, really. “Last name is something Irish, I think- O’ something or another. O’ Neil? That sounds about right.”

“I’ve been calling her Lydia for six months,” Louis realizes, banging his head against the steering wheel. “Why did nobody tell me? Why didn’t she _tell me_?”

Liam shrugs. “You’re a bit severe sometimes, Tommo.”

Louis gasps, affronted. “ _Severe?_ Is that really what you think?”

“I’m not saying you _are_ severe, I’m saying you come across that way sometimes. Most of the time.” Liam shrugs again, pulling out his phone only to sit there and flip it around in his palm. “You’re a very- You’re a go-getter. Take no bullshit. Waste no time. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just how things are in the office.” Liam pokes a finger into his own chest. “Good cop,” he nods to Louis, “bad cop. It’s just how we do things.”

“Good cop, bad cop? Oh for Christ’s sake you do talk some shit sometimes, Liam.”

“See this is what I mean!”

“Oh forget it,” Louis grumbles, finally turning the ignition to start the car. It’s hot as Hades and his shirt is already sticking to his back. He gives himself a moment to both calm and cool down before pulling into traffic, his fingers itching to smack the phone out of Liam’s hand.

*

“So I’m sitting there, right, and I’ve got barbeque sauce on my dick and she looks me in the eyes and says: okay, but where’re the nuggets?”

“That is a- that’s a fascinating story Liam, although I’ll have to hear the rest later because-” He glances at his phone to check the address. “We’re here!”

“A yoga studio?” Liam asks, clearly unphased by the rapid topic change. Louis knows more about his law firm partner’s penis that any one person should know about their law firm partner’s penis.

“No, _Harry’s_ yoga studio.”

“The hot father of your son’s best friend? Also he’s your new BFF, from what my sources have told me. Also you like him.”

“He’s not- I don’t even-”

“I believe Linda’s words were _he’s like cute but you know he’s got a rockin’ bod underneath all that fabric and leather_. _He’s deffo Louis’ type, their chemistry is insane._ ” Liam pulls open the door. At Louis’ surprised look, he adds, “What? We’re good friends, Linda and I. She tells me things.”

“She’s met him twice. Also _I’m not gay_.”

“She says three times, he came to replace some flowers while you were out, I dunno why-”

“Lou Lou!” Louis hears from over his shoulder, Harry’s voice drifting from the doorway of what must be the studio that leads away from reception. “What a surprise!’

Louis finally struts into the studio, feet planting into the floor once he finally gets a good look at Harry.

 _Fuck_.

He’s upside down, for one; for two he’s balancing against the wall on only his forearms, the length of his body stretching up the mirror that runs along one side of the room. His hair is fanned between his arms, his butt bouncing steadily against the mirror as he tries to hold the pose. His flowy shirt has dropped down to his chest, abs for days on full display. Louis is actually going to hell.

“I thought that was your voice,” Harry says, Louis still staring at the lean muscle of his legs that are visibly flexing through his black tights. “Wait everything’s okay right? With the kids?” He starts tipping forward, Louis almost instinctively reaching for him before remembering that Harry kind of does this for a living. Harry rolls his body down, his knees touching the floor for half a second before he pops up to his full height. The entire thing displayed more gracefulness than Louis has seen in the three weeks he’s known the man.

“No, yeah, everything’s fine,” Louis assures him after a few seconds of staring at Harry’s furrowed brow. “Just thought I’d stop by and see the place. Looks great,” Louis adds after a beat too long. Fuck, Liam’s going to have a field day when they leave.

“Oh, thanks! I’ve not had much money for decorating or anything but it serves it’s purpose, I suppose.” Liam coughs awkwardly somewhere behind him. “Right, hi, I’m Harry. Harry Styles.” Harry steps a few feet forward to shake Liam’s hand, his shoulder bumping into Louis’ on the way. An accident? Louis thinks not.

“I’m Liam Payne, Louis’ partner.” Louis spins around to shoot daggers. Mixed signals are the last thing he needs at the moment. He doesn’t know what he _does_ need at the moment, but mixed signals are definitely _not it_. He’s in over his head. “At the law firm, we’re partners in the law firm. LLP.” Harry quirks an eyebrow. “Limited liability partners. If Louis’ fucks something up, my ass isn’t on the line, basically.”

Louis shrugs. “Knock on wood, am I right?”

They all half-laugh and this entire situation is awkward.

“So how’s the yoga business, Harry?” Liam asks after what must have been a solid minute of silence. The only sounds coming from feet shuffling against the floor and cars driving past the large window that lines one wall of the studio.

“Pretty good, pretty good,” Harry says, moving to the far side of the room to move things Louis can’t see around. Oh jesus, is that a _gong_? “People around here sure love yoga, and that’s good for me, I guess. It’s a bit tiring, teaching the same five classes every day, but the people change sometimes and that’s always interesting. You guys should come for a class one day!”

“Yeah I’m not really a yoga kind of guy,” Liam starts at the same time Louis says “I’m actually busy that day.” Liam shoots him a look that says _we’re both impolite for declining, but you’re more rude than me, bitch_. Liam’s eyes are very expressive.

“It’s fun,” Harry laughs, because apparently he’s incapable of sensing negativity. “Lou Lou, please?”

“Maybe,” Louis concedes.

“Well I’ve actually got a class in a few minutes but I suppose you’ve got actual work to do, so maybe another time.”

“Yeah we ought to get back to the office,” Louis agrees, “But one day I’ll give it ago.”

“And I’ll be rolling in my grave,” Liam mutters, checking his watch and glancing towards the door.

“Well I’ll see you tonight, Harry,” Louis calls, shifting to plant an elbow into Liam’s ribs.

“Bye! Have a safe trip back to the office!” Harry calls to their backs as they step into reception.

“He seems like a good guy,” Liam comments as they walk back out into the late June heat. “But really, Lou Lou? You’ve got to be _kidding me_.”

Louis groans and tries not to jump into oncoming traffic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think :)


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay!! i've just moved back into school and my first week of classes has been insane and life is just crazy. i meant to put this up last week but I completely forgot and now it's friday again so i figured why not  
> i hope you all enjoy  
> talk to me on tumblr at arrowinheart !! i love talking and people so it's great

 

~*~

“I just don’t understand what there is to celebrate? The rampant sexism overrunning the country?? Rape culture?? _Capitalism_??”

“Harry I’m not going to ask you again to stop being such a debbie-downer. You’re really harshing our mellow.”

Harry frowns. “We pick this day to celebrate our independence but why do we never talk about the marginalized people that we basically obliterated?” He shakes a finger in Louis’ direction, trying to remain serious even when the sight of his daughter crawling up the man’s shoulders is absolutely adorable. “The Trail of Tears, Louis? Ever heard of it?”

“Yes I’ve heard of it, you nitwit. But we’re trying to have a fun Fourth of July and you’re _ruining it_.” Louis ignores Harry grumbles about capitalism in favor of blowing a red, white, and blue party favor in his face, the little paper roll hitting him in the nose. “Now lets head out before everything gets too crowded.”

It takes ten minutes to get everyone situated into Louis’ car, the second car seat Louis purchased after the first week proving to be slightly more advanced than the one Harry has. Louis ends up leaning over his son to show Harry how everything works, Harry’s eyes tracking every motion carefully as he listens to Louis’ comments on how _aerodynamic_ this seat is and how it’s made with some material or another that Harry doesn’t know how to pronounce but is apparently literally _everything_ -resistant..

“Honestly, NPR is the best thing for kids to listen to.” Harry comments ten minutes later as they’re taking the exit for the Bay. “Genuine conversation interspersed with classical music? What more could you ask for?”

Louis just shakes his head and turns up the Kid’s Bop version of Shake it Off, the over-sized sunglasses perched on his nose looking ridiculous as he bops his head to the beat.

The heat is beating in waves as Louis stops along the road that runs adjacent to the bridge, Harry pulling his hair up into a bun  before navigating Aura out of her car seat.

There’s a collection of picnic tables near the drop-off that leads to the Bay, Aura running close to the edge as soon as her feet hit the ground.

“Three feet back, Aura!” Harry reminds her, closing the door to Louis’ car before moving to the trunk.

“Food seems to have survived,” Louis comments, pulling out the basket that Harry brought along when they showed up that afternoon. “Even though I still think a literal picnic basket is a hilarious thing for you to own.”

“It’s _useful_ ,” Harry corrects. “As you can see, exhibit A.” He pulls it out of the trunk, making a show of waving it in front of Louis’ face.

Louis grins, pinching Harry’s side before abandoning him to run off after the kids.

Harry closes the trunk with light pull, trying very hard to not be overly fond.

Louis’ finally wanders back over to Harry while he’s struggling to pull a tablecloth across the hardwood of the picnic table. “You need some help there, fancy feast?”

“Fancy feast?” Harry wonders aloud, curious as to how his new nickname has become the brand name of a cat food. “I do not think I am fancy, nor is this a feast.” He ponders to a moment. “I think _you’re_ more fancy feast than I am, if you think about it.”

“Did you bring flatware to this picnic?”

“Well-”

“Fancy feast!” Louis declares, turning around to beckon the kids back over to the table. The crowds are starting to come in in waves now, the grassy patch of land filling up as people prepare for the fireworks show.

Louis helps Harry fit the tablecloth over the table, mocking him as he goes. Then they’re laying out the food Harry had prepared that morning.

“Fancy feast,” Louis reminds him as they’re pulling the tiny sandwiches from the basket. They’re cut into the shapes of stars, it’s not even anything _fancy_ , but Louis cuts off all attempts at an explanation.

So they eat .

And it’s _fun_.

Harry hasn’t been out much since Aura was born. Sure, they went to the movies a few times a year when Aura just _had_ to see something. And yeah, they went to Niall’s place for barbeques sometimes. Noah’s been over a few times in the past couple of weeks but even they don’t go _out_. They just hang out around the apartment and have sex when Aura’s asleep.

Up until three weeks ago, they were just a couple of homebodies.

Now they’re out on Harry’s least favorite holiday with two people that Harry didn’t even know a month ago and he’s having the time of his life.

~*~

Harry’s got his fingers covering his ears, his face lit up from the fireworks bursting over their heads, simultaneously grinning and screaming as more and more are launched into the sky.

“You’re being a baby!” Louis shouts at him just for fun, his hands tightening around Charles’ ankles from where he’s sat upon his shoulders. “It’s not that loud!”

There’re people on all sides of them so when Harry bumps his hip against Louis’ it could completely be an accident.

“Aura do you want up now?’ Harry asks, bending down to reach for his daughter. “Aura?”

Louis glances down at his tone, holding steady onto Charles who’s still cheering, oblivious.

“Aura!” Harry shouts, at full volume now, his voice getting more panicky by the second. “Where is- Where did she go?” He shouts to Louis, three decibels louder than necessary despite the crowds. “Did you see her?”

“No, but calm-”

“Louis we need to find her.” Harry’s close to tears already. Fuck this went from zero to eighty right quick; apparently he’s not one to accidentally leave kids at the supermarket then. “Louis please!”

“Of course, of course!” Louis says finally, snapping out of his haze. “She’s probably just gone to find a bathroom or something, please, _please_ stay calm.”

Harry nods his head but his eyes are still wide and searching, looking around the crowd wildly. There’s music pumping out of speakers somewhere in the distance, the fireworks still lighting up the sky, and the crowds are pressing steadily towards the Bay as the show progresses. None of this, of course, is helping with the current situation.

Louis pulls Charles from his shoulders to his hip, trying valiantly to ignore Harry’s chants of _she’s been kidnapped she’s been kidnapped what did I do what did I do_.

“Harry calm the fuck down!” Louis shouts eventually, the words causing his hands to shake a bit as he pulls Harry through the crowds, his grip on his son stronger than ever.

“What are we doing papa?” Charles asks eventually, once he can no longer turn his head around to see the fireworks. “What about the lights!” He starts squirming but Louis keeps his grip iron clad, pulling his son’s face down to look in his eyes.

“We’ll get back to the lights as soon as we find Aura okay?”

“Where’d she go?”

Harry lets out a choked noise at Charles’ innocent question, opting to just rub a hand over his back instead of answer that _they don’t know_.

“Do you want to split up?” Louis asks gently, tucking Charles’ face into his shoulder as he starts asking more questions that Louis doesn’t know how to answer. “I mean-”

“Yeah-” Harry interrupts, shaking his hands out by his sides, “just meet me back here in, like, ten minutes okay? Text me if you find her.”

“Of course,” Louis agrees, wanting to add some consoling words but not knowing what to say. Harry’s gone before he can even open his mouth.

“Alright pal,” Louis starts, pulling Charles around to his front so he can see his face. “Aura’s gotten away from us okay? But we’re going to go look for her.”

“Is she- is she gonna be like mommy?” He whispers, his eyes the size of the moon as the light from the fireworks dances across his face.

Louis sucks in a harsh breath. He wasn’t prepared for this.

“No,” he says firmly, eventually. When he finally catches his breath. “She’s just gotten lost I think, we’ll find her soon.

Charles nods even though Louis’ sure that he hasn’t a clue as to what’s going on.

So they search.

*

They find her.

Louis can see her at the table they were sat at earlier, her legs crossed on the wooden top, her hands poised by her knees. Louis fumbles to text Harry with one hand, his other occupied by holding his squirming son against his thighs as he points to the table and shouts up at Louis’ face.

“Papa! Papa she’s right there!”

“I know, I know,” Louis grins, trying to keep his eyes on Aura and text Harry at the same time. He shuffles them forward as he hits send on the message, finally releasing his son so he can run to her.

Louis follows slowly, the weight of Harry’s panic slowly lifting off his shoulders as he makes his way over to the kids. This area is far less crowded than where they were watching the fireworks, most of the hoards of people drifting closer to the Bay to watch the show. Louis feels ten times lighter as he sits on the table by Aura’s side, his arm wrapping around her tightly as she continues to chant with her eyes closed.

Louis doesn’t know what’s happening so he and Charles just sit and wait, trying not to giggle at the steady stream of noises flowing from her tiny mouth.

They hear Harry’s labored breathing before they see him, the man jerking to a stop in front of their table. Aura’s eyes peek open momentarily at the commotion, Harry gathering her into his arms, hand coming to bury in the curly hair at the back of her head.

“Aura don’t _ever_ do that again, do you understand me?” Harry’s eyes are wet, boring into her face before pulling her back against his heaving chest, his hands slowing in their shaking as he calms his breathing. “You scared me, sunshine,” he whispers against the top of her head. Louis feels like he should be looking away. “What were you thinking?”

“The people were too close and I couldn’t breath, daddy,” Aura says calmly into his shoulder, her hands still positioned on her knees. “I came here to center my breathing, to get my chakras under control.”

Louis let out a bark of laughter at that, a hand coming to slap over his mouth when he realized how inappropriate it was, given the current situation.

“Aura,” Harry starts, blatantly ignoring Louis’ outburst. “if you ever feel like that again, let me know. I’ll get you out, okay?”

“Okay daddy. Can we go to Lou Lou’s now?”

Harry glances at Louis. “Sunshine-”

“Come on, love,” Louis interrupts. “We can go home.”

Charles cheers, “Sleepover!” And that’s the end of that.

~*~

Harry can’t sleep.

It’s three in the morning, he’s sprawled in the center of Louis’ guest room bed and he can’t sleep. Aura’s probably counting sheep next door, her and Charlie sharing his bed, arms wrapped tight around each other, last Harry saw. Louis and Harry put them to bed as soon as they got home- er, to Louis’ house, Harry’s hands having to be forcibly removed from his daughter to allow her to lay down.

He’d never been so scared in his life, Harry realizes, turning over in the bed to hug a pillow against his chest. He’s been so carefree but always, always cautious with his daughter. He’d thought he’d mastered the balance of giving her the freedom to do whatever she could want while at the same time keeping her safe. He’s spent his entire life by her side- when there wasn’t work in the way- and the second she was gone it was like a switch had flipped in his brain and he became one of those helicopter-parents that he swore on his life he would never be. He’s not felt right since.

He can’t sleep.

After watching three solid minutes tick by on the sleek clock sitting atop the bedside table, he decides to make some tea.

He tiptoes to the kitchen carefully, his barefeet gliding down the steps as he makes his way towards the- light?

“Louis?” He whispers softly once he steps into the dimly-lit kitchen, peering through the open door on the other side of the room. “Lou?” He calls again, creeping towards the triangle of light spilling through the crack. There’s a rustling noise inside but no response. Harry smiles a little, pushing the door open slowly only to anticlimactically reveal Louis hunched over a desk in the back of the room, his head tilted as he reads through a large, dusty book. There’re headphones tucked into his ears, his head bobbing along to whatever is flowing through the buds, his barefeet pushing off the ground just enough to make his chair spin back and forth rhythmically.

So of course, Harry taps his shoulder.

“Jesus, _fuck_!” Louis half-whispers half-shouts, hands coming to rip the earphones from his ears as he jerks around. “Harry!”

Harry grins, tugging a little at the tiny ponytail that Louis has sticking out from the back of his head. Harry never would have guessed that Louis’ hair was long enough to be pulled back but here it is, a little sprout of hair being held back with what could only be one of Aura’s elastics. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he lies, spinning on his heel to walk back into the kitchen. Louis follows after a loud thud that could only come from the closing of the thousand year old book he had sitting on his desk. “What are you doing up?” He asks, going for casual as he turns on the burner beneath the kettle.

He spins back to Louis only to see him digging around in the cabinets, eyebrows un-furrowing only when he emerges with a brand new box of tea and a mug. Harry is very, very pleased.

“Just finishing up some work,” Louis answers finally, eyes glued to Harry’s hands as he sifts through the box. He got a variety pack; what a beautiful thing to do. “Didn’t go in today, so I figured I should do some since I couldn’t sleep.”

“We’re not, like, impacting your work or anything, yeah?” Harry pulls out a bag of Earl Grey and slides to box back across the counter to Louis. He knows Louis’ been working less, gradually going into the office later and later every morning, always coming home by five on the dot. From what Aura told him at the beginning of the summer, Louis was a workaholic. She acted like his housekeeper did everything but wipe his arse- it sounds nicer coming from a six year old, he supposes- but Harry’s not once seen that side of him. He’s always put Charlie first.

“No, no, no,” Louis finally replies, his eyes tearing away from where he had still been staring at Harry’s hands. “It’s nice to be out of the office, and I’m glad that Charles is so fond of you both, I never really felt like enough for him, I guess.” Louis shrugs, a self-deprecating smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “My only friend is my law partner and I never see him beyond office hours or the courtroom. My life isn’t very fun; you guys kind of spice things up. I like it.” He shrugs, as if he hadn’t just revealed more of himself in the last five minutes than Harry’s known in three weeks.

Harry just smiles though, slipping the tea bag into the mug he left on the counter this afternoon. Louis will say what he needs to say when he’s ready. “You ought to try some tea, you know,” he offers casually, leaning a hip against marble. He tries not to think about how fast his and Aura’s lives are changing. How many tea bags are in the box that Louis purchased, what that could mean. He doesn’t know what he’s doing with Noah, he doesn’t know what he’s doing with Louis- who’s resolutely _not_ gay. He doesn’t know why he’s even thinking about it because. Because it’s ridiculous. They are never going to be anything, it’s not even an option. But sometimes Harry looks in Louis’ eyes and the crystal clear blue just drags him down, down, down and he’s left wondering. Waiting.

He thinks he might want to end things with Noah.

Sometimes Louis opens his mouth and Harry’s head just spins.

“It’s really-”

“Good for you, yeah I know,” Louis interrupts, pulling a face as he inspects the box. Harry hopes he didn’t pay too much for it. “Tea just isn’t really my-”

“Cup of tea?”

Louis’ smile finally comes out in full force, and everything is absolutely blinding. From the shape of his mouth to his little pointy teeth to his tongue pressing against his bottom lip as he shakes his head. “I suppose so.”

Harry feels like he’s been physically knocked down. He’s known that Louis was beautiful, objectively, from the beginning; from the day in his office when he was moody and pissed off and wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. They’d both checked each other out, Harry remembers. He tried to stop himself because at the time he thought that Louis had been a neglectful father and a shitty parent. But now they’re standing in Louis’ kitchen at three in the morning and Louis bought him _tea_.

If Harry ever pictured this moment with someone there would be touching. There would be rough hands on soft hips and passing glances and whispered words as they tried to not wake Aura. He would be able to reach over and squeeze Louis’ hand and Louis would squeeze back. There would be no softly whispered confessions about feeling like a bad parent, there would be no _I’m not gay_ s and there would certainly not be the five foot distance that separates their bodies.

“I think I’m going to end things with Noah,” he says eventually, more to see what Louis has to say than to break the silence. He’s never exactly been their number one supporter.

Louis hums noncommittally, face remaining stonily neutral. Harry wants to scream. “Why’s that?” Louis mutters eventually, speaking only once he’s turned around to put away the tea.

“It’s just not working out, I guess,” Harry shrugs, deciding right then and there that he actually _does_ want to end things.

He’s a good person, Noah. Aura loves him and Harry even thinks _he_ could love him one day. But there’s something not right. Noah is fresh-faced and young and free and willing to throw himself into anything. He’s never experienced pain or hurt or loss in the way that Harry has. He doesn’t understand that things aren’t always easy no matter how much Harry likes to pretend otherwise and he’s never known the responsibility that Harry has had for the last six years.

He needs someone older. He needs someone who understands the things he’s gone through as both a single and gay parent. He needs someone who recognizes that Aura has been and always will be his main focus in life and that she’s not just something that can be put on the backburner while he has fun. He needs someone like Louis.

He needs sleep.

“Well I guess things just don’t always happen the way we expect,” is all Louis says after a thousand heartbeats of silence. Harry watches him walk out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room, just the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

Harry thinks it means something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is fairly short in comparison, i think but i now officially have over 25k written so i actually have no idea how long this thing is going to be


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall has a barbecue and Louis gets pensive.

“Mate.”

Harry takes a moment to register the Irish brogue in his ear, his hand tightening around his phone as he rolls over. He makes a noise of recognition eventually. It’s Niall.

“Missed you, bro, not seen your ugly mug in weeks,” Niall complains, his voice too loud for whatever god awful time it is. Harry doesn’t have the strength to roll over and actually _check_ the time. Louis’ guest room mattress is at _least_ one thousand times more comfortable than his at home. It’s like sleeping on a cloud. Niall doesn’t feel the need to wait for a response before continuing. “I’m having a barbeque tonight to celebrate the Fourth-”

“That was yesterday, Niall,” Harry grumbles, his eyes refusing to open.

“Yeah and today is today, smart ass,” Niall shoots back, his tone nothing less than fond. Harry really loves him. “Zee’s been dying to see Aura. You can bring the new guy Nick, if you wanna,” he adds after a beat.

“Noah,” Harry corrects, finally sitting up against the tufted fabric of the headboard. “And I’m ending things with him, so maybe it’s not the best idea.”

“What, why?” Niall asks, his attention clearly spiked. “He seemed great!”

“You don’t even know his name,” Harry points out, hands coming to run through his hair as he spies his reflection in the mirror facing the bed. It’s an _awful_ place for a mirror. “It just didn’t work out.”

“Louis finally showing interest then?”

“What are you-” Harry sputters, both offended and impressed. “What are you talking about?”

“Mate,” Niall’s tone is too all-knowing for how little he _actually_ knows. “You send me pictures of him at least once a week and you went on about how nice he is for at least three hours. You’re, like, in love with the guy.”

“He’s not gay,” is all Harry says, his mind scrambling to come up with explanations for Niall’s (very convincing) argument. “I was sending you pictures of _Aura_ , first of all. He just happened to be in the background-”

“His _arse_ was in the background, looking rather perky and in-focus.”

“Also he really _is_ nice,” Harry continues, ignoring Niall’s claims. “He buys stuff for Aura, but not in, like, a pretentious way. Just like it’s what he wants to do. It’s nice.” Nice, nice, nice.

“ _Buyingherlove_ ,” Niall mumbles quickly, definitely _not_ trying to disguise his words as a cough.

“He doesn’t need to _buy her love_ ,” Harry grumbles, fingers toying absentmindedly with the hem of his boxers. “She loved him from the get-go, even when I thought he was a prick.”

“ _Either way_ ,” Niall says, effectively changing the subject, “You should come. And bring Louis instead of Nick, I don’t care.”

“You _know_ his name is Noah, Ni.”

“I read somewhere once that if you call someone by the wrong name occasionally it establishes dominance.”

Harry rolls his eyes. Niall establishes dominance the second he steps into a room with his larger-than-life personality and laugh that could end world hunger. “I’ve got to go wake up Aura now,” Harry decides after a few moments of silence, the only sounds coming from Niall chewing something on the other end of the line.

“She’s not up already?”

“It’s not-” Harry finally glances at the clock sat on the bedside table, his eyes nearly bulging as he realizes the time. “Niall, it’s eleven!”

“Yeah and it’s Sunday, July fifth.” Harry can practically _hear_ his eyeroll. “I know these things, Harry.”

“Fuck, I gotta go.” He ignores Niall’s protests and ends the call, jumping out of bed to pull on his jeans from yesterday. _How could he sleep in so late? Why hasn’t anyone woken him?_

By the time he’s opened the door the smell of pancakes hits him. Everyone must be awake, then.

His thoughts are confirmed as he glances through the open door of Charlie’s room and finds it empty. Harry makes his way to the kitchen then, his body following his nose.

“Daddy!”

Harry has to take a moment once he’s stepped out of the hallway and into the brightly-lit kitchen, his eyes roaming over the scene.

There’s Aura that he sees first, her eyes bright as she whisks with one hand and waves with the other. There’s an apron tied around her waist. It’s been doubled over because it’s too big, but Harry can still see the _E_ embroidered in red against the stained, not-quite-white fabric. Harry’s heart sinks a little.

Louis is just to her right, spatula in hand as he’s apparently in charge of the pancakes flipping. He’s got on a matching apron that actually fits him properly, albeit the string is wrapped around his waist twice and messily tied in the front rather than the back as to be expected. The _L_ is embroidered in green rather than red, the fabric still a crisp white from its obvious disuse.

Charlie is sitting atop the counter, apparently on watch duty for the pancakes, his eyes carefully tracking as bubbles appear on the uncooked tops, pointing them out to _papa_ when they’re ready to flip.

Harry feels almost emotional at the sight of it all, at the harmonious movements and the silly dance moves that the kids are making up to the track Louis has playing softly in the background. The fact that Aura has slipped so seamlessly into Louis and Charlie’s lives, her laugh mingling with theirs to create the most beautiful melody Harry has ever heard.

He blames his emotional state on his late start to the morning.

“Sunshine,” Harry greets Aura eventually, stepping past Charlie and Louis to place a kiss against her head. “Why did no one wake me?” He asks the room as a whole, both thankful that he was able to get a few extra hours of quality sleep and disappointed that he’s missed some of the fun.

“Well this one,” Louis says, poking a finger into Aura’s cheek, “came bounding into my room looking for you bright and early.” Harry’s surprised. He’s surprised but a little embarrassed. He told her a thousand times last night that he would be sleeping right across the hall, he can’t understand why she would check Louis’ room first. “When we saw you were sleeping we decided to make you pancakes for breakfast. We’ve also got some of those vegetarian, not-sausage sausage patties in the microwave if you want some. They taste like rubber but Aura swears you love them, so.” Louis shrugs, as if him catering to their lifestyle was nothing at all. “We’ve been up since eight.”

“You’ve been making pancakes for three hours?”

“Yeah,” Louis grins, taking a fews steps back to open the oven. He slips on an oven mit, thick-framed glasses getting a little steamy as he pulls out a pan that’s covered, literally _covered_ \- and stacked probably a foot tall- with pancakes. “You hungry?”

~*~

Louis doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

He’s not been around a large group of people- who aren’t in a courtroom- in longer than he’d care to admit.

He was social in college, not in a frat-way but he was pals with some of the brothers, brothers who invited him to parties, who introduced him to sorority sisters, who introduced him to Eleanor.

Eleanor wasn’t exactly a cop-out for him. He loved her more than words could describe; kissed her forehead before bed every night, held her hair when she was sick, cried when he first saw her walking down the aisle. She was stunning, in a light pink dress, _blush_ , she’d called the color, always annoyed when Louis called it pink, insistent that white was cliche. She was never one for cliches.

In actuality she was the epitome of an enigma. She didn’t mind her hair being messy but she wore makeup as if it was tattooed on, only washed off after a long day at work, when she was bone-tired from CEO-ing. She would kick off her shoes and tie her hair up with an elastic, slipping out of her dress slacks and into sweatpants and one of Louis’ jumpers. She’d roll up her sleeves and Louis would already be in the kitchen, humming and smiling and _in love_ and they’d cook dinner together, always together.

When Eleanor discovered she was pregnant Louis cried. When they had their fifth appointment with the obstetrician in less than a month, Louis cried for a different reason.

Louis thinks he was crying more than breathing for an entire year.

But then Charles was here. He was smiling and bubbly and Louis knew it was irrational, that babies don’t develop definitive characteristics until much later in life but it was her nose. He had her nose.

Work was his solace. He hated to think it but when he snuck into Charles’ room before the sun rose, and he peered over the crib, all he could see was his wife’s nose. Her cheekbones. He was a creation, the culmination of their very best qualities and sometimes looking into his son’s eyes was hard. Sometimes he needed to leave.

So he did. He hired Rhonda and she never judged him. She came before Louis woke up and left after he was asleep and she took care of everything in between.

Sometimes Louis feels like a horrible father. Like he’s slipped into some strange reincarnation of his own father, the one who abandoned him, abandoned his mother. Louis tries not to draw parallels between to two of them, he and his father, but it’s so, so hard to lie to yourself when the proof is crying three doors down, only quieting when wrapped up in the arms of someone who’s everything that you’re supposed to be.

*

Charles’ laugh brings him out of his head, his eyes opening as he tilts his head back down, surprised to see the world still spinning.

Aura and Charles are chasing each other, the dog running about between them- Harry insisted on bringing him, pulling out the big guns as he went on about Felix’s feelings of abandonment and Louis had to pretend like that didn’t hit home harder than Harry could have ever intended.

Charles is wearing the dress Louis picked for him, simultaneously proud and relieved when no one even batted an eye as they walked through the gate with Harry, everyone just shouting their greetings to him, not even surprised to see the new faces.

Harry’s group of friends is solid, he’s decided, eyeing the lanky brunette man in the back corner of the garden, his hair adding several inches to his already tall frame. Louis wonders if he’s overcompensating for something. He’s quite loud but there’s also a charm to him, his facial expressions putting a punch to biting words that are always only said with fondness; his tone joking but never mocking.

The man is chatting to a woman with grey hair- the color not from age but from style, her skin still tight around her face as the man says something that Louis thinks he might have found funny. The words are lost over the space, but sometimes he has a sense for these things.

Harry is standing with Niall who’s working the grill, a position that is apparently not to be taken lightly as he keeps his eyes steadily on the cooking meat, never wavering even as he grins at something Harry’s said. Louis watches as Niall finally lifts his gaze, his head nodding Harry in his direction, murmuring something that Louis really wishes he could hear for some reason. Harry finally gives in, but not before landing a solid punch against Niall’s arm, carefully sculpted muscles making an appearance for half a second before relaxing. Harry throws a few words over his shoulder before he meets Louis’ eyes.

Louis stares down into his glass of water, suddenly very interested in watching the condensation drip between his fingers, small droplets landing on his thigh creating dark patches on the material of his jeans. He wants to draw lines between them, connect them like he used to as a child, but then Harry is sitting down next to him on the bench and his mind can’t focus on anything but his proximity.

“Hiya,” Harry says eventually, after Louis has taken in three breaths and released only two.

Louis shifts his eyes to the right, finally allowing himself to take Harry in fully.

There are jean shorts stretched across his thighs, the material hitched up to a near criminal level, the hem line fraying more than Louis thinks was intended. He’s wearing a Green Bay Packers t-shirt, the white cotton sticking to his sweaty chest, his nipples on full display. Louis wants to ask him to cover himself, be decent for once, but then he decides he maybe doesn’t want that. He tries not to think about it.

“It’s hot as hell out here,” Harry comments, reminding Louis that he never properly greeted him back. His manners are slipping as fast as Aura sliding through the mud to tackle his son.

Louis says, “Quite warm, yeah,” and Harry smiles for a reason Louis doesn’t know.

“I’m glad you came, Louis,” he says, as if he had to drag him out of the steps of his house and into the car. The truth is, Louis would have said yes even if Harry _hadn’t_ spent half the morning cleaning up the kitchen from the pancake wreckage, the other half spent stitching up every holey article of clothing in the Tomlinson household. Louis never intended to put Harry out when he asked if he could sew; he never expected Harry to be so damn good at it either, Louis adding both seamstress and ridiculously benevolent to Harry’s long- but ever-growing- list of redeeming qualities.

“I wanted to come,” Louis tells him sincerely, wanting to get the strict, uptight, antisocial version of Louis out of Harry’s head. He doesn’t know how Harry really sees him though, Louis counters to himself, thoughts pinging back and forth like a pinball machine until he decides firmly that he doesn’t care how Harry sees him. He’s been nothing less than his true self in Harry’s presence and sometimes he needs to let the chips simply fall where they may. “I don’t have many friends,” he admits, “Eleanor was always the one bringing people around; after she passed people stopped coming, I stopped inviting them.”

Harry’s eyes narrow. Not in a judgemental way, but as if he’s assessing Louis, picking his words carefully before speaking. “Her death doesn’t have to be the end of you, Louis. You’re a complete person, you know?”

“You think she didn’t take a piece of me with her when she left? It’s a spot that’s hard to fill.” Louis thinks maybe Harry’s working his way in there, but they both know he’ll never be the same as he was. It’s another thing Louis doesn’t like to think about.

“I think people take pieces and leave pieces as they come and go,” Harry decides eventually, thoughtfully. “But when one spot remains empty for too long, it’s easy to forget what it was like when it wasn’t.”

Harry’s naive if he thinks Louis’ forgotten even a moment of what his love for her felt like. It was like falling but not in a scary way, in the _best_ way. Like he’s got wind rushing through his ears and the knowledge that there’s someone there, waiting for him. Someone he trusts and loves and they’re going to catch him and everything will be okay.

“Bit heavy discussion for a barbeque, isn’t it?” He says instead of addressing the fact that Harry’s slowly striping him bare and Louis doesn’t like it one bit.

“Well America’s independence should clearly be the one and only topic for the entirety of July,” Harry says sarcastically, leaning to rest his elbows against the back of his chair, right leg crossing over his left as he settles in. “It all started when the white man…”

Louis listens to him rant, smiling to himself even though he would have called himself a conservative up until three weeks ago when Harry found out and subsequently made him question the views he’d had since he was twelve. Harry continues and he tells stories like a historical documentary that could never make it to air; too harsh, too critical, too _true_.

*

By the time Niall announces that the meat’s ready, Harry’s worked himself into a tizzy, only lowering his hackles when Louis places a hand on his thigh, the half of his palm that’s touching bare skin feeling like it’s burning up as his fingers stroke the light hair there. There’s a slightly stubbly feel to it that Louis recognizes as new growth, as if he’d shaved them recently and Louis doesn’t know why that’s appealing, why it makes him grin like he’s holding the biggest secret of the world.

His hand slides off reluctantly as Harry stands to eat, calling out to Niall about his and Aura’s veggie burgers, asking if they were kept apart from the _lifeless meat of innocent animals_.

Louis rolls his eyes but laughs as everyone groans simultaneously; Harry practically preening under the attention, like he doesn’t care what caused it- that they’re mocking his beliefs. Harry just rolls with the punches and accepts the plate Niall hands him.

When they sit at the long fold-up table in the yard and Harry sits across from him, their bare feet slip against each other carefully, like Harry’s unsure. Louis’ _definitely_ unsure but it doesn’t stop him from hooking their ankles together, burying his smile into a plate of beans and meat and corn, face burning until Charles pulls at his sleeve and asks him to cut up his piece of chicken.

When Harry’s foot inches up to his thigh during dessert, Louis think this secret may be even bigger than the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh im so sorry for the wait I've spent the past three weeks rushing/being bid/being initiated into a sorority so everything's been a little bit crazy with that on top of my school work. But!! Now that rush is over I should have more time to write so everything should be finished in the next month, fingers crossed  
> thanks for reading, comments and kudos are my everything :)  
> im on tumblr at arrowinheart if u wanna hit me up <3


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunk texts from people who are totally and completely not gay

_Trying to make some sense of it all,  
But I can see that it makes no sense at all._

~*~

Since Louis seems to be ignoring what happened on Sunday at the barbeque, Harry decides to do the same.

It wasn’t like anything really _had_ happened, they didn’t kiss or anything major, anything _earth-shattering_. It was just a simple case of footsies under the table. It’s not even a _big deal_ , Harry thinks, it was probably accidental.

Harry still tries to forget the feel Louis’ muscular legs against the soles of his feet, running lightly up and down the material of his jeans until Harry got a little _too_ invested in it all and he dropped his feet, grinning to himself when Louis just hooked their ankles together, toes rubbing against the tattoo on the knob of his ankle. He probably didn’t even realize it was there.

*

By Friday’s lamaze class Harry’s head was running a relatively consistent loop of _louislouislouislouis_ and his classes are noticing.

“H,” Harry hears from over his shoulder, body unfolding from his firefly pose as he looks to the door. It’s Nick.

“Nicholas,” he replies, rolling his shoulders as he scans over the small group of pregnant women still milling about the room, chatting to each other and their partners; everyone’s glowing even though Harry accidentally skipped an entire sequence until someone coughed and softly reminded him.

Nick moves closer, smiling tightly at the people hovering around the room, stepping over the oddly shaped pillows that are used in class and looking like he’s trying not to scowl. “It’s boy’s night,” he reminds him eventually, when he’s moved in close to Harry, when he can smell the not-so clean sweat on his friend’s body, scent only partially masked by a few spritzes of ETERNITY by Calvin Klein. What a try-hard. “You’ve not been out in ages, Niall’s already agreed to watch Aura for you.”

Harry tries not to be offended that the most important people in his life are making plans behind his back, forcing him to go out before he’s even decided if he wants to. He thinks he _does_ want to, but he could have made the arrangements for Aura on his own. “Can Louis come?” The question is out of his mouth before he even thinks about it, thinks about what could happen if he and Louis got drunk together. Harry kind of wants to find out, now that he’s thinking about it, but he shuts that down fast; nothing happening under the influence of alcohol is valid, it’s null, dismissable, because when your head’s a little fuzzy and there’s music pulsing through your veins there are a lot of things that _seem_ like good ideas.

“Are you going to be pining the whole night?”

“I don’t-”

“No.”

*

Harry tries not to feel deprived that he didn’t even get to see Louis that evening, Niall opting to pick Aura up from Noah’s care and take her back to his place. He knows he should be upset that Aura only had a few moments notice of her sleepover with Niall and Zayn, the result of a phone call to Noah (which was stilted and awkward) that was transferred to Aura who was so excited to see Uncle Niall she didn’t even bat an eye.

By the time he steps into the club, Nick’s hand a firm presence at the small of his back, he feels lightheaded. A shotgun pressing into his spine would feel more appropriate, but he knows that if he told Nick that, he would just slap him round the head and tell him to stop being so melodramatic.

As he takes in the lights bouncing off the walls, the music reverberating down to his very core, he thinks he’s too old for this place. He forgets a lot that he’s only twenty-two.

“The boys are around the back in the usual spot,” Nick yells in his ear, hand slipping from his back to his waist. Harry wonders if he was pre-gaming. When he turns around to respond and smells the tequila on his breath, it’s confirmed. “I’m gonna go get a round for everyone!”

Harry just shouts an affirmative because he doesn’t think he wants to admit that he’s forgotten the _usual spot_. It’s been at least a year since he’s stepped foot in _any_ club, much less Scandals; the boys usually opting for a more casual bar rather than a dimly-lit gay club where talking is nearly impossible and their straight friends get hit on all night.

He finds them soon enough, maneuvering around barely-legal boys in shorts tight enough to rival even Harry’s. He feels strange looking at them, knowing that anything that happens tonight will be between him and the other person and God and Harry’s never been one for one night stands, but he knows that that is exactly Nick’s plan for the night.

Nick has reached the table before Harry does, a line of shots running straight through the middle of the over-waxed surface. Harry doesn’t know what the clear liquid is until his friends all toast and toss them back, their faces showing definitively that it’s more tequila. Harry braces himself before taking the shot, vaguely proud when his face shows no indication of the burning sensation that’s racing down his throat, the boys clapping Harry on the back.

“It’s been a while, innit?” Ed asks, pulling Harry down onto the booth beside him, pushing another shot into his hand.

Harry thinks it’s funny that Ed has a few shots of vodka sitting in front of him, recalling his words from their last night out; _clear liquor is for skinny women on diets_ , he had informed Harry, leaning in close enough that Harry could smell the Jameson on his breath, eyes lingering on the shot settled between his thumb and forefinger. He’d tried not to be offended on behalf of women everywhere, rolling his eyes and giving Ed a shove. Harry doesn’t think he meant much by it, he’s never really been one for thinking before speaking.

“Too long,” Harry agrees, downing his next shot and then one more a few minutes later, trying to catch up with everyone.

By the time it’s Harry’s turn to buy a round they’ve switched to beer and cocktails, taking everyone’s order before beelining to the bar before he could forget. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out while he waits for a bartender to take notice of him.

 _didn’t get to see you this evening :(_ , is all it says, Harry’s watery eyes glancing to the top of the screen to see Louis’ name there. Three little dots pop up in a bubble and Louis must be typing but then they disappear and Harry really wishes they didn’t, wishes he knew what Louis was thinking all the time, what he wants to say.

 ** _Out_** , Harry types, his fingers hitting the blue send button before he can even finish the message. _Out with some friends!! :)_ , he was going to say, maybe even add a couple of _x_ s at the end for good measure. Too late, Harry decides. Louis’ typing again.

_Are you mad at me?_

And it must have appeared quite short, Harry realizes, looking at his one word response, lower lip tucked between his teeth. That wasn’t his intention _at all_. On the contrary, he’d rather like to declare his love, his infatuation, right this very second but everything but his heart is screaming _no no no._

 ** _No no no_** , He sends, clicking on a notification from Niall when it appears at the top of his screen.

 _I want a baby!!!!!_ It says, a picture coming through seconds later of Aura wrapped tight in Zayn’s arms, both splayed out on their bed, the indent in the mattress from Niall’s body still obvious.

 ** _Get one!!_** He says, fingers typing again fast as soon as he hits send. **_You can’t have mine_** _,_ he clarifies.

_Reckon I’d look nice with shaved legs?_

Harry takes a moment before he clicks on the notification from Louis, cursing his incessant need to keep his read receipts on. Once he clicks there’s no going back.

 ** _Reckon you’d look good any way you like_** , Harry says, hoping that it’s just this side of appropriate. He wants to both respect Louis’ body and ravish it. His alcohol-muddled brain is to blame, he decides. He thinks it’s only due to his fumbling fingers that he doesn’t type out an entire paragraph, an entire sonnet on how Louis’ legs would look nice shaved, bare, rough, smooth, purple, green, blue. He’d look most beautiful on the moon, Harry thinks, with the light highlighting the contours of his face, his cheekbones even more pronounced by his five o’clock shadow.

 _You shave yours_ , Louis types, the words a statement, not a question.

 ** _How would you know?_** Harry asks, even though he’s acutely aware of the last time Louis touched him, his feet running over his calves and down to his toes. He remembers wishing he had shaved before they arrived, his legs stuck in that limbo between soft and smooth and difinitively manly, but who was he to expect that Louis would be more friendly than normal, more touchy and less cautious than Harry’s ever seen.

 _Because I could feel it with my feet_ , Louis says honestly. Three dots popping up as he types again. Ah, so they _are_ going to talk about it. _At the barbeque?_

 ** _You say that like I’d forget_** , Harry says, feeling like he’s being pulled apart at the seams as he glances up and sees Nick heading his way.

 _Well you didn’t mention it._ Louis sounds almost accusatory, but then Nick is only a few feet away and he’s eyeing Harry’s phone with disdain. Fuck.

 ** _I’d never forget something like that, thought you didn’t want to talk about it_** , he adds an **_x_** to the end, like a warning, hoping to convey that the conversation isn’t over, and he has just barely a second to press send before Nick is slipping his phone from his fingers and into his back pocket, arm wrapping around his waist as he orders the drinks that Harry should have had back at the table ten minutes ago.

The words are too honest, too intense and this conversation isn’t one that should happen via text message, especially when Harry’s brain to mouth filter isn’t as strong as usual. He wants to take them back, grab them out of the air stream and rearrange the letters into something more casual, more collected, less rushed.

He doesn’t get the chance to, knows he won’t see his phone until morning, when Nick places it back into his hands, probably with a smirk on his lips after reading their messages.

*

_I’m not gay_

Harry reads the message with bleary eyes and a dry mouth, only holding back a scoff for Nick’s sake, the man spread out, still sleeping, on Harry’s bed, his limbs stretching in every direction until he’s taking up as much room as physically possible. Asshole.

 ** _You’re not gay but you play footsies with me underneath tables?_** Harry types, the early morning and his intense hangover making him bold.

Harry keeps his phone unlocked, clutched in his hand as he stumbles into the hallway, beelining to the bathroom to take some aspirin and brush his teeth. The typing bubble appears a few minutes later after Harry’s flossed the first few teeth along the bottom row, making his way from side to side just as the dentist does for him. The message finally appears after he’s filled his mouth with Listerine, the burn refreshing as it washes out the last traces of alcohol.

 _It was a friendly sort of thing_ , is all it says, Harry accidentally spitting the rinse all over the mirror as he laughs.

 ** _You play footsies with all of your friends?_** Harry asks, but all he’s thinking is _lielielielielie_.

 _Only BEST friends_.

It’s interesting, Harry decides, to see Louis call them friends. Best friends, even.

Because Harry never really saw them as the _just friends_ type.

It was as if they’ve been slowly building up to something, _anything_ , this whole time- even when Harry thought he hated the man.

 _Just friends_ was never something that was on the table for them.

Maybe he’s naive. Maybe he’s not.

Harry’s always been one to romanticize things. He blows things out of proportion and Niall’s always called him a _hopeless romantic_ but that’s different. He falls in love too easily, yeah, but- no, he’s not in love with Louis, they hardly know each other-truly, actually know each other- but Harry knows that he _will_ fall in love with Louis because he’s got a soft heart and soft eyes and _thick thighs_ and he’s _aware_ that he romanticizes things but he doesn’t think he’s done it with Louis. This isn’t one of those situations where he turns a casual fling into a whirlwind romance, feels the inexplicable urge to propose on the third date, where he thinks- no, he _knows_ that he’s turned this straight man gay, awakened his homosexuality, brought him over to the dark side.

Well, maybe it is the last one.

He hasn’t imagined the lingering touches and the jealous eyes and the comforting hands. Those are real and they were things that Harry can’t over-analyze because they are _real_ and Harry remembers them in technicolor.

_Maybe more than best friends…_

Harry didn’t see the message come through, too lost in this thoughts to watch the typing bubbles as he normally likes to do.

Maybe more.

Maybe _more_.

Harry snatches his phone up from the bathroom counter, ignoring the mouthwash dripping down the mirror as he decides what to say.

 _Not gay_ , comes through before he has the chance to respond, Harry rolling his eyes because he _gets it, okay?_

_Just interested. Experimenting._

Harry doesn’t know if this means he wants to experiment _with Harry_ or just in general and his mind is spinning a thousand times a second as he tries to catch up with Louis’ hastily tacked on messages.

**?**

Harry hopes to convey his utter confusion with the single character, praying that Louis takes the bait.

He doesn’t.

_;)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hot damn yalls comments are really encouraging hahhahaha this ones a little short but ill be posting chapter seven hopefully tomorrow or monday night!!  
> thanks for reading and i hope u like it  
> follow me on tumblr at arrowinheart (also if youre reading and decide to follow me shoot me a message and ill check out ur blog i just unfollowed a lot of people and my dash is dead af)
> 
> ps: i drunk edited/posted this so im really really sorry if its shitty i love u


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <3

_Well I don't know why I came here tonight,  
I got the feeling that something ain't right._

~*~

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Come _on_ , Lou!” Harry begs, his eyes wide enough to pop right out of his head. Louis wonders if the incident would put a stop to this conversation. Probably not, he decides, Harry would probably just pop out his pretty lips and pout and Louis will agree to whatever he wants.

He’s gotten more… accepting of his thoughts about Harry. He’s always known Harry was a beautiful person, but that was more based on his personality than his outer appearance. Now, though, that Louis allows himself to really _look_ he- he likes what he sees.

“Harry I can tell you one thousand and one reasons why camping with two children is a stupid idea but I feel the only one that needs to be enumerated is this: bugs. Big ‘ol bugs, crawling and biting and stinging.” Louis cocks his hip against the kitchen counter, already bone tired from the long day he’s had; this isn’t exactly something he wants to deal with. He was surprised to see Harry when he got home from work, though; Louis thought that the novelty had worn off since, for the last few days, the only people home when he stumbled through the door at half-past five were Rhonda and Charles.

“We can wear bug spray.”

“Okay how about these reasons then: no bathrooms, no running water, it’s hot as fuck, no wifi, no electricity, _murderers_.”

Harry grins, producing a piece of folded-up paper from his back pocket, sliding it across the counter to Louis.

_Kirby Cove, campsite reservation confirmation: site one._

He doesn’t need to read anymore, doesn’t care about the amenities listed below. Tries to ignore the words _fun_ and _beach_ and _bathrooms_ and _safe._ “ _Harry_ ,” Louis starts, “you can’t-”

“Okay but listen,” Harry cuts in, moving a few steps closer. Louis’ ears immediately perk to listen for the sounds of Aura and Charles playing upstairs, his heart rate rising at Harry’s proximity. He doesn’t want any witnesses to his emotional breakdown over Harry’s _smell_. Fuck, five days ago Louis told Harry he wanted to _experiment_ , jesus. But then Harry was avoiding him and now he wants to go _camping_? “I’ve had these reservations for ages, honestly. It was going to be a father-daughter kind of deal but then you and Charlie came along and I just. I was hoping you’d come?”

“Harry I’m not exactly an _outdoorsman_ ,” Louis tells him, going for a different approach. “Roughing it in the wild isn’t something I’m particularly keen on.”

“You don’t have to do a single thing,” Harry tells him, stepping closer to slip the paper out of his fingers. “You can just sit back and look pretty.”

“Don’t patronize me, Harold.” Louis tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach, his heart racing in his ears, the sound as obnoxious as Harry’s ridiculous gong in the studio. _Prettyprettyprettypretty_.

“Please?” Harry mumbles, voice soft and dripping like honey as he steps impossibly closer, raising a finger to trail along Louis’ jaw.

Louis’ always been a person to make eye contact, it’s one of his most defining traits, Liam says. He looks people in the eyes as he slays them in the courtroom, as he shakes their hands, as he determines whether a potential client is lying through their teeth or if they can be trusted enough to be represented by one of the most prestigious law firms in the city. Now, though, in this very moment, with Harry’s face three inches away, his lips looking soft and pink and _huge_ and absolutely kissable, Louis can’t for the life of him meet his eyes.

“Okay,” Louis finally mutters, his tone defeated and so obviously affected, he hopes Harry assumes it’s due to his lack of enthusiasm.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Harry cheers, his hands dropping to the counter as he pushes himself up, biceps bulging, his long legs flailing out in excitement. _God,_ Louis thinks _, this is where I’ve chosen to lie my affections_.

Louis would think that it was all a game, a tactic. That Harry was using his sugar-sweet voice and lingering touch just to get Louis to comply. But then he takes in Harry’s slightly widened eyes, his right hand shaking just the tiniest bit as he runs it through his hair and maybe, just maybe, Louis thinks that his whole suave demeanor is just for show. He’s as affected by this as Louis.

*

On Friday, Louis buys a tent.

*

“Alrighty then, people,” Harry announces to the three of them, tossing the last bag from the trunk of Louis’ car onto the (frankly, underwhelming) pile of ‘necessities.’ _How are they meant to live off this for two days?_ “Phones, please.” Harry holds out his hand expectantly, as if he’s not singling Louis out, seeing as he’s the only one with a phone other than the oaf asking for it.

“But what if I-”

“Nope.”

~*~

Building tents is hard, Harry’s decided, wiping the light sheen of sweat off his forehead..

Building complicated, fancy tents that Louis just _had_ to buy is hard.

Building complicated, fancy tents- that Louis just _had_ to buy- by _oneself_ is even harder.

But doing it all while Louis sits back in a camp chair, Aura on one knee, Charlie on the other, bouncing them up and down as he tells fantastical, made-up stories about princes and dragons and lady-knights in shining armor?

That’s the hardest.

~*~

“Do you have any idea how much sugar is in that?” Louis can’t detect a hint of seriousness in Harry’s tone so he grins and bites into his s'more, savoring every gram of sugar in the damn thing.

“Do you have any idea how little I care?” Louis smirks as he watches Harry’s lip curl up in mock disgust, over-dramatically covering Aura’s eyes as Louis chews obnoxiously in their direction. “Just try one, H,” he encourages, thrusting what’s left of his desert into Harry’s face, sticky goo dripping onto his fingers. “Live a little.”

“Or you could just punch me in the face and it’ll have the same effect.”

Charles giggles from where he’s tucked under Louis’ arm, hands firmly clutching his own s’more.

“Think you’re being a bit hyperbolic there,” Louis comments, carefully watching Harry’s face as he raises his thumb to his mouth. Louis isn’t even trying to _tease_ him it’s just. Harry gets so riled up _so fast_. Louis unconsciously shifts away from his son, eyes flickering across Harry’s face as he sucks the digit into his mouth. It’s not even- fuck he doesn’t even know what he’s doing with his life anymore.

“Time for bed, innit?” Harry suggests abruptly, throwing the bucket of water over their bonfire, apropos of nothing. “I’ll take the kids to wash up if you’ll get the sleeping situation sorted, Lou?”

Harry doesn’t even wait for a reply before flouncing off with the kids in tow, Charles’ forgotten s’more left on the log.

It’s not without a great deal of thought that Louis puts the kids together in the annex part of the tent. He was going to share that with Charles, he really was- leave the larger section for Harry’s ridiculously long body to stretch out in.

But then Louis discovered that the annex is actually very, very small so the obvious solution was for him and Harry to _share_.

It just made sense, mathematically or whatever.

*

_Well I don't know why I came here tonight,  
I got the feeling that something ain't right._

_*  
_

“Hey.”

Louis’ eyes peek open, heart pounding because no matter what he told himself, he knew this would happen. He could pretend that he and Harry would do nothing but sleep, completely shut off from the kids, but deep down- in the depths of his rotten little soul, he knew. He thinks it was meant to be. But also maybe he was forcing fate, just a little, seeing as he made the sleeping arrangements. He’d much rather pretend it was meant to be.

“What.” Louis’ not trying to be short or disinterested but he’s- fuck, he’s nervous.

“Would you mind too terribly if I kissed you?”

The words are quiet. Shocking and quiet and whispered into the dark, dark night, probably both to preserve their little bubble of tension and to keep the kids from waking, seven feet away, nothing but a zipped panel of nylon separating them.

“Yes,” Louis says carefully, voice as low as Harry’s. “Wait, no.” Louis sits up, a hand running through his mess of hair. “I was confused by your wording.” He allows himself two breaths in, two out. He’s feeling remarkably more calm than he was expecting. Which is to say, he’s only a few paces back from the edge that will tip him into insanity. “Please kiss me.”

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Harry laughs, voice still slightly lower than normal. There’s a shifting, the soft rustle of a blanket, that Harry undeniably knit himself, being pushed aside. Then he’s there, a man, straddling his thighs, fingers carefully but confidently placed on his shoulders, thumbs digging soft circles above his collarbones.

Louis wishes they would turn on a light. They could, he supposes, but then this would all be too real and Louis doesn’t think he’s quite ready for that no matter what he tells himself. He wants to see Harry but he’s not ready to accept the fact that Harry is a _man_. Much less, a man that Louis is _interested_ in. It’s weird and strange because Harry’s kind of huge and there’s not a chance in hell that Louis’ could even pretend that he was anything less that a _man_ but this also feels so, so right.

“You’re really, like, tiny, you know?” Harry comments, hands moving slowly away from his shoulders and down to his waist, his hips- fuck, his ass. He loves it; he wants to moan in ecstasy, in agony, because he’s missed this feeling- because after six years without touching someone- someone that he actually likes- this moment, these few seconds in the vast expanse of the universe are the _best_.

Louis shoves a little at his shoulders, rough but not rough enough to suggest that Harry should remove his hands from where they’re cupping his ass, fingers probably being crushed between Louis’ weight and the hard ground beneath the tent, but enough to express his indignance. “You know you’re actually-”

In any other circumstance Louis’ hackles would rise at being cut off, at being silenced. But right now, while he’s experiencing some of the best seconds in the vast expanse of the universe?

He’s just fine.

*

Harry’s lips taste like sunshine. It’s probably cliche and stupid and Louis may just be drunk off Harry’s presence, but this feels a hell of a lot like love.

~*~

 _I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair,  
And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs_.

~*~

Harry’s not sure of the exact moment their kissing turned into talking or when their talking turned into cuddling, but when he wakes to Louis’ arm fixed snugly around his waist, chest pressed to his back, Harry decides that maybe there are some questions that don’t need to be answered.

Harry’s always been one to wake with the sun; it’s been both a blessing and a curse.

Today is no different.

Harry’s back is warm and his bum is pressed against Louis’ crotch and all's right with the world.

But he has to fucking piss.

And there’s the beginnings of rustling coming from the annex which means the kids will be awake soon and even though he and Louis aren’t exactly in the most compromising position, the kids finding their parents this way will probably not bode well in the long run.

Especially because he currently has no idea where they stand.

Harry pulls a little on Louis’ finger because words might be too much but his fingers are right there, tucked between Harry’s side and the floor and finger-pulling seems like the safest form of communication right now.

Louis doesn’t move an inch, his breathing as consistent as before.

So Harry pulls harder. He’s not trying to pop it out of socket or anything, just make enough of a disruption to make Louis wake up, maybe, because words are absolutely _not_ forming coherently enough to actually be spoken aloud so this is really his only option.

Harry switches from one to two fingers, pulling progressively harder until finally there’s a change in Louis’ breathing behind him, just a quick exhalation through his nose rather than the slow in-out that Harry had felt before. Did he just snort?

“Can I ask what you’re doing?” Louis’ voice is soft, almost playful and Harry relaxes instantly against him. “You thought I was going to freak out didn’t you?” Louis sounds almost offended, but he’s not pulling away and it’s a good thing since Harry isn’t quite ready to look him in the eyes yet.

“I didn’t-”

“You thought that I was going to have a big gay freakout,” Louis accuses, his posture remaining the same apart from a teasing squeeze to his belly. “You thought I would sneak out, abandon you and Aura and run away shouting _I’M NOT GAY_ to the rooftops, right? As I clutch my son to my chest?” Harry doesn’t say anything because he’s fairly certain that that was a rhetorical question. (Although he’s not exactly far off.)

“Well,” Louis breathes, both of them apparently choosing to ignore the sounds of zippers running down sleeping bags coming from the annex. “I don’t think I’m gay, Harry, so sorry to disappoint.” Louis speaks again before Harry even has the chance to react. “But I like men, I think. Mostly just… I like _you_ Harry.”

“You do?” Louis shifts, just enough so Harry can feel the hard line of his cock against his ass. “Oh.” Harry’s face reddens, turning a little in Louis’ arms until he can tuck himself under Louis’ chin, his fingers coming to sift through the messy locks of hair at the back of Harry’s head. “You _like_ me.”

Louis pulls back a little, a soft, albeit nervous, smile on his face. “Do you,” Louis raises a finger, swirling the digit around in front of Harry’s face, “like me?” He finishes by pushing the finger against his own chest, the childlike-ness of it all more so endearing than strange.

“Do you want me to tell you?” Harry asks, cautiously lifting a knee to rub against Louis’ groin, “Or do you want me to show-”

“Daddy!”

They spring apart at Aura’s shout, Harry’s knee just barely avoiding a painful interaction with Louis’ cock, as they sit up just in time to catch each of their children in an awkward embrace. Harry doesn’t have to try very hard to will away his excitement.

*

“You and Lou Lou were hugging this morning while you were sleeping.”

It’s not a question, it’s not an accusation, and, most importantly, it’s not a freak out. It’s a statement. Clear and simple.

“Louis’ my best friend,” Harry says simply, pulling down a small bowl to begin his concoction. “Pass me the turmeric, please.” Aura rolls her eyes but hands him the small spice bottle, well-trained after years of helping make Harry’s face masks. He measures out a few tablespoons of the orange powder, reaching into the cabinet below for the honey. “Grab the milk from the fridge, sunshine?” Aura heaves an all-suffering sigh but hops down from her place at the counter and yanks at the refridgerator door. “Thank you darling!” Harry says cheerfully, pulling the half gallon of milk from her hands.

“Charlie is my best friend but I don’t kiss his face and stuff.”

“When did-” Harry spins around on his heel, just barely avoiding dropping the milk in his hand. “Aura, let me-”

“Daddy, it’s _okay_ ,” Aura says calmly, raising a hand to pat at Harry’s wrist. “You can love Lou Lou if he makes you happy, right? You always say being happy is the _upmost_ importance.”

Harry doesn’t even want to correct her, he just wants to cry. “I love you a lot, you know that?”

“Of course I know that, you say it too much.”

“Never too much,” Harry says firmly, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of his daughter’s head. “I don’t want you to ever forget it, okay?”

“Okay, daddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i really really hope this was okay and im sorry for the wait <3333


	8. VIII

“Okay so how does it work exactly?”

“How does what work?”

Harry pours more red wine, shiraz because apparently Louis prefers _local_ wineries, and wipes the corner of his mouth with his napkin after a particularly large bite of pasta. Fancy isn’t exactly his forte.

“Gay sex.”

Harry chokes a little on his fettucine, trying valiantly not to tear up as he attempts to dislodge the food from his esophagus. “Louis!” Harry gives him a little kick under the table once he can breathe effectively again, taking the liberty to down the rest of his freshly topped-off glass. So that’s where this night is going. “You can’t ask me to explain what sex is like on our first date.”

“I mean I know logistically that a dick is going into an ass but I was trying the other night to-”

“Louis!”

“Harry I paid for a private room for a reason.”

“So we can have sex?” Harry is both confused and a little turned on.

“No, you idiot.” Louis carefully stood, his hands clutching the seat of his chair to his ass as he waddled around the table to plop down to Harry’s left. “I want to be able to talk to you about anything, you know?” Louis’ cheeks were a little red and his eyes were downcast but his heart was open and his aura was absolutely breathtaking; a deep orange that so closely resembles the sky at dusk, it’s so easy for Louis to take on the role as the sun. “And I was just curious because I, like, tried some things last night and it didn’t really work out so I just-”

“It’ll be fine, Lou, don’t worry.” Harry smiles as Louis offers up a hand, their fingers entwining so gently Harry wonders if this is how things worked with Eleanor. Harry shakes the thought from his head, rolls his shoulders until he’s sitting up straight, accepts the wine Louis pours, and promises himself to not worry over things like that. Carpe diem and all that jazz.

~*~

“When will the kids be back?” Harry’s breathing heavily, his back against the wall of his apartment door, and no matter how much Louis tried to deny it, this is exactly where he’s wanted him since the moment he walked, no, _barged_ , into Louis’ office.

“They’ll be at mine at four tomorrow, my mom has dinner plans after that.”

Harry grins, pulling Louis in for another kiss until it’s nothing but a sloppy mess of tongue and teeth and perfection and, fuck, Louis’ missed this. This feeling of someone pressed against his body, nothing but passion and lust flowing between them, the heat of the moment that burns so bright Louis feels like it should hurt but it feels nothing but _good._

“What’s my aura now?” Louis asks, the question coming out of nowhere. He’s not even sure that he believes in these kinds of things but Harry’s into it and Harry trusts it and Louis trusts Harry and honestly he wants to be nothing but good for Harry. And if that means making sure that his chakras are the right color or whatever then he’ll fucking do it. “Give me a color.”

“It’s pink,” Harry says after a moment, his breathing evening out from their brief hiatus so Harry can collect his thoughts. “It’s like, it’s like the color of Aura’s skin right after she was born, before she was exposed to everything bad in the world, like, it’s like the carnations that my mom used to pick in the spring and put all over the house because she thought they were the most beautiful flowers in our garden.” Harry smiled softly, his fingers carefully tracing the line of Louis’ jaw as he stared just beyond the outline of Louis’ body. “It’s beautiful.”

“What does it mean?”

“Tenderness, care, emotion,” Harry’s fingers traced lower, his hand smoothing down the curves of Louis’ hips, “passion.” Harry’s hand ghosted to cup just over Louis’ cock, his hand loose but still very, _very_ much there. “Physical,” _squeeze_ , “attraction.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a tease?”

“Always.”

The next two minutes are a blur of hastily pulled clothes, stumbling feet, and fumbling hands.

“You’re gonna fuck me, right?” Louis knows that it’s crude, and not very loving, but he’s nervous and maybe he feels just a tiny bit better as Harry’s eyes widen and he jerks out a nod. “Well I’m kind of flying blind here so tell me what to do.”

Harry says, “Get on the bed, hands and knees,” and it’s then that Louis realizes he’s never actually been inside Harry’s apartment. He’ll have to get a tour in the morning.

Louis wants to question if he should pull off his boxer briefs first, but Harry’s pupils are blown even in the dim light and he’s just standing there nodding to himself, tongue darting out to lick over his lips. He steps up onto the bed, which is actually just a mattress on the floor, and sinks to his knees when he gets to the middle. Once his hands are planted firmly below his shoulders, he peeks back at Harry and smiles sheepishly. “Like this?”

“Perfect, you’re perfect.”

Louis turns back around because he might want everything in the world from Harry right now but looking him in the eye is not something that he can handle at the present moment.

There’s a shift and then Harry’s behind him, naked, hands roaming from Louis’ shoulders to back to hips to bum until his fingers slip beneath the cotton of his underwear and then there’s the warmth of Harry calloused hands exploring every inch of the newly exposed skin.

“You’re teasing again,” Louis comments after listening to nothing but the rustle of sheets and his own heartbeat for several minutes. He’s feeling remarkably composed considering he’s about to have sex for the first time in over six years. He hopes that means something.

“I’m expressing my compassion through touch, there’s a difference.”

Louis wants to laugh but then he hears the soft snick of a bottle of lube opening and the nerves that were being kept at bay are now resurfacing as his heart rate picks up again; he hopes the steady pulse in his neck isn’t evident to Harry.

“You’re nervous.”

Louis rolls his eyes and flips around so he can lay on his back in front of Harry, half-hard cock flopping pathetically against his belly. “Were you going to warn me about that?” Louis asks, gesturing the monsterous dick being stroked gently by Harry’s hand. “Or did you want it to be a surprise.”

Harry’s cheeks redden just enough for Louis to feel more calm, happy to be back in familiar territory. “You don’t have to do this you know, it’s not like there’s a gay ritual you have to follow.”

“Oh thank God, pass me my pants then,” Louis jokes, moving to sit up until Harry straddles his hips with a grin.

“It’s okay if you’re scared.”

“‘m not scared,” Louis says defiantly, “it’s just been a while.”

“How long?”

“How old is Charles now?” Louis ponders for a moment and tries not to feel sad. “Add nine months to that.”

“And you’ve never been with a man?”

“I married the first person I ever really dated, so college wasn’t exactly an experimental time for me.”

“But now you want to experiment?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “You’re not an experiment.”

“But I’m you’re first time.”

“With a man, yes,” Louis corrects.

“But I’m popping your proverbial cherry.”

“You and I both know that you don’t believe in the concept of virginity.”

“It’s ridiculous!” Harry bursts, clearly unable to hold it in. “But I’m being serious right now,” he points to his mouth, a completely straight line even if the corners are twitching in the slightest.

Louis pulls him down, legs wrapping around Harry’s waist and maybe it should be awkward that their cocks are slapping together and that Harry’s spilling lube on his bed but it’s not weird that Harry’s a man, it’s not weird that Harry _isn’t_ Eleanor.

“Harry, you’re not an experiment, this isn’t a one-off I _told_ you that.”

“But what if I ruin your first time and you don’t ever want to have sex again.”

“Then I’ll become celibate and live with the monks, I’m sure your hippie friends know of the nearest monastery.”

“Louis.” The words comes as a warning and Louis sobers.

“I’m nervous, okay?” Louis tries to tuck his face away, but on his back there’s nowhere to go so Harry holds his gaze steadily. “I’m scared that I’m, like, betraying Eleanor.” Louis didn’t realize the weight of the words until his shoulders feel just a touch lighter. He keeps going. “I think I’ve liked men for longer than I realized and I loved her, I swear I did, but I’m already scared that I-” _Love you more_. The words are just barely held back from escaping and Louis wants to say it but all he can think is _too soon, too soon, too soon_ on all accounts so he bites his tongue. “I don’t want anyone to think that I loved her any less than I did.”

“Louis anyone who matters will only want you to be happy.” Harry rolls to Louis’ side, reaching down to pull the comforter over their bodies.

“My mom’s really, like, religious, right?” Louis knows Harry _doesn’t_ know, he’s only met her briefly in passing, but Harry nods anyway. “What if she, I dunno… hates me?”

~*~

Harry smiles and tries not to remember the way he came out to his own parents. “How about if I just pretend to be your mom and you can come out to me.” He pauses, the feel of sheets against his bare skin making him flush. “Just- you can pretend that we didn’t just almost have sex.”

“We can get back to that eventually.” So Louis’ going for a compromise. “But what exactly am I supposed to say?” Louis asks, head pulling away until it’s absolutely Too Far, the phantom pressure against his side still just this side of overbearing. “No, this is- this is stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, just do it.”

“Well, mom,” Louis starts, his tone serious even though there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “I’m- I’m gay.” Harry raises his eyebrows. “I’m bi, maybe pan. I don’t know. Labels are stupid.” Harry stays silent, encouraging him with his eyes. “I like men.”

Harry wants to make a joke. He wants to laugh it off and roll on top of Louis and kiss him until their lips are numb and their cocks are hard again and Harry can slip into the heat that he wants so desperately. But he won’t. Because Louis’ voice is soft and quiet and definitely nervous. It’s getting on two in the morning and Harry knows that means it’s honesty hour, it’s early and dead-silent and Louis just looks so fucking nervous, his eyes quietly searching Harry’s.

“Well, son,” Harry starts, voice pitched high, his hand coming to rest on Louis’ arm as it’s tucked beneath his head. There’s moonlight streaming through the window and cool air rustling the curtains and Harry is so utterly content in this moment. He just wants Louis to be living in this moment with him, sans nervousness, sans fears. “I support you and I love you.” Louis’ face is transforming slowly, his eyes crinkling as Harry scoots closer. “And I want you to know how proud I am of you, okay?”

“Okay.” Louis smiles. “Also, if we’re going with the nurture over nature theory this is entirely your fault.”

Harry moves in as he laughs, his lips an inch from Louis’ until a hand comes to rest firmly on his sternum. “You’re not my mom anymore, right?”

“I can be,” Harry offers, voice still pitched as high as he can go. Mommy kink (?) isn’t exactly his cup of tea but if Louis’ into it god knows what Harry will do.

“I’ll veto that,” Louis says instead, reaching a hand to pull Harry down by the nape of his neck. “You really don’t think people will hate me?”

“I think people will the opposite of hate you,” Harry promises, leaning down for only a fraction of a second to peck Louis’ lips.

“The opposite of hate?”

“Love.”

Louis grins, and leans up for a kiss before stopping half an inch from Harry’s lips. “That word sounds so pretty coming out of your huge fucking mouth.”

Their lips are connecting, sparks flying, before Harry even has the chance to pretend to be offended.

*

Harry grins at the feel of hips pressing against his back, the hard line of Louis’ cock rubbing just above the swell of his bum. He wiggles back a little, shifting up just enough that he’s given the illusion of Louis’ thick cock sliding between his cheeks, teasing.

Louis’ still asleep, he realizes, his soft mumbles getting lost in Harry’s hair. Harry shivers at the feeling, debating whether this is okay or not, if he should wake Louis up or not.

He’s just working up the energy to roll over and stop all of this when- “Fuck, Harry,” Louis mumbles, Harry’s eyes instantly closing against the morning light slicing through the half-open curtains, against the burn racing over his cheeks.. “I didn’t mean-“

Harry rolls over carefully, taking note of their half-hard states before slotting himself up against Louis, eyes soft as he pulls Louis’ hands away from his blushing face. “You okay there, babe?” Harry asks softly, trying to keep from breathing too closely to Louis’ face, fearful that a giant whiff of morning breath could ruin their moment. Louis nods, eyes wide with a mixture of awe and suspicion. He shifts his hips against Louis’ gently, testing the waters now that they’re both fully awake.

Harry tugs at Louis’ biceps, pulling him gently on top of him. It takes a few moments to get situated, Louis still being ridiculously careful as he scoots them both up the bed a bit, fingers lingering around the waistband of Harry’s boxers.

“Can I-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry grins, relishing in the feeling of Louis’ soft hands roaming over his skin, fingertips lightly tracing the tattoo placed across his thigh. Louis takes a moment to stare unabashedly at the sight once the material is pulled away and off and Harry tries valiantly not to squirm under the attention. “Look who's teasing now,” Harry grumbles, cheeks heating from the intensity of Louis’ gaze.

Louis reaches down to pinch Harry’s bum at that, their laughter lightening the moment enough for Harry to develop at least a semi-normal breathing pattern.

“You really wanna do this?” Harry asks, eyes searching Louis’ face for any flicker of uncertainty.

Louis must need a moment to ponder, Harry waiting with baited breath until small hands are reaching down to urge Harry’s hips against his, the fabric of Louis’ pants feeling just a touch too rough on his sensitive cock.

“Just like this?” Harry mumbles, pulling at the string of Louis’ (Harry’s) sleep pants slowly, pushing down the thick material along with his boxers all in one go. Louis pushes up onto his knees, struggling with the material until Harry snorts and takes pity on him, leaning up enough to pull the material away from Louis’ bare feet, tossing them to the other side of the room.

“Sexy, aren’t I?” Louis leers, eyebrows raised and wiggling dramatically until Harry pulls his face down to his level, lips smashing together with Louis’ surprised intake of air. His bravado falls down around them with the kiss, eyes fluttering shut as their lips move together.

Louis wastes no time re-aligning their hips, their cocks rubbing against one another deliciously. Harry moans at the feel of it, the sound immediately swallowed by Louis’ mouth as his tongue dips in to slide against Harry’s.

Louis’ hips are pumping steadily, messily, their mouths not quite moving together, rather they’ve adopted panting within one another’s vicinity. Harry eventually moves to kiss along Louis’ neck, eyeing the spot between his collarbones before leaning up to suck a love bite there, smiling as he pulls away and watches the color fade from pale white to deep red to a light purple. He presses a gentle kiss against the mark, blowing on it softly before looking back up at Louis.

He looks beautiful like this, Harry thinks, moaning quietly at both the sight above him and the friction on his cock. Louis’ eyes are squeezed shut, mouth dropped open, a light sheen of sweat beading along his forehead. His hair is mussed and all over the place, the most disheveled Harry has ever seen it. He grins at the thought, happy to be the one who gets to see Louis like this, panting atop him, soft moans rumbling from his throat as he jerks his hips at an unsteady tempo.

Harry reaches down as he feels the tightening in his stomach, wrapping a gentle hand around the two of them. Louis gasps at the feeling, eyes flickering down to Harry, furrowed eyebrows relaxing as his hips slow enough so that Harry can jerk them both off.

Harry feels like he’s been on the edge for hours even though it’s been no more than ten minutes, a new low being set for his stamina. He thinks it might be Louis’ eagerness that’s bringing him off so quickly, his eyes dark but happy as he lets them rove over Harry’s face, reaching up to tuck a few strands of hair away from Harry’s forehead. “You close?” Harry asks, voice sticky slow in the heat of the moment, hoping that he’s judging the twitch in Louis’ cock correctly. Louis nods, face ducking down to nudge against Harry’s shoulder as Harry thumbs at the heads of their cocks, using the precome that’s gathered there to ease the slide.

Louis’ breath quickens against Harry’s collarbones as he gets closer and Harry smiles, proud, as he slides his thumb over Louis’ head just as he comes, Louis’ body going soft and pliant as he shakes through his orgasm. Harry goes to release their cocks, even toying with the idea of licking his hand clean, but Louis’ hand fumbles between their bodies, knocking Harry’s fingers away so he can wrap a tight hand around Harry’s cock, fingertips dipping into his own come to act as a makeshift lube. His hand is firm and tight, fast strokes making Harry squirm until he spills over Louis’ fist, come dripping between the gaps of his fingers before he squeezes a few more times gently, swirling a finger through their mingling come until he traces the shape of a heart with it, just above Harry’s belly button.

“You’re disgusting,” Harry mumbles, nose scrunching in faux-distaste, definitely deciding that he’d prefer come art over a Big Gay Freak Out any day.

“Good morning,” Louis says eventually, finally rolling his body away from Harry’s, turning his neck to give Harry a soft peck.

Harry mutters, “Very good morning,” against Louis’ lips and that’s that.

~*~

“We made cookies and ate the mints that gramma keeps in her purse and went shopping and had lots of fun.”

Charles’ mouth is moving a mile a minute and Louis couldn’t be happier with the world.

“Did Aura have a good time then?”

“She saw her mommy!”

Louis’ fingers stop moving against the dough he’s been pressing into the marble counter, pizza forgotten. “She saw who?”

“Her mommy!” Louis knows his mouth is gaping but Harry said she doesn’t live in their area, he said she wasn’t in their lives anymore. “Aura wanted to hug her but gramma said no.”

Louis shakes out his shoulders, running a hand through the fringe flopped against his forehead. “That was very smart of her,” Louis says eventually, hands hesitantly resuming against the cold dough. “Aura doesn’t know her mother, it could have been anyone, Charles. I’ve warned you about-”

“Stranger danger, I know, papa.” Charles rolls his eyes. “But Aura’s seen pictures, she told me about her.” He scoots closer on the counter, his apron stuffed between his knees. “She misses her, you know,” he whispers carefully, eyes too-wide and too-innocent for Louis to handle in this current moment. “We talk about our mommies a lot.”

Louis wants to say that neither of them have even met their mothers. They don’t know what they liked, how they smelled, how they smiled.

Sometimes Louis gets sad.

He’s told Charles about Eleanor. They’ve had intense, in depth conversations about her. But those happened when Louis was buzzed off bourbon and his son was too young to recognize the smell of alcohol on his breath, too young to talk back, too young to _know_.

‘What do you talk about?”

Louis doesn’t think he wants to know.

“Our mommies are really different.” Charles shrugs. “Sometimes we talk about that.”

“Different how?” Harry doesn’t talk about Cara often, Louis can’t help but be curious.

“I don’t _know_ , papa, they just _are_.” Louis doesn’t know what he expected.

“Well,” Louis grabs the sauce that’s been moved behind Charles’ back and begins spreading it across the dough. “Aura’s mother left them. No, left _Harry_ , okay? Don’t ever think that them leaving is because of either of you.” Harry isn’t exactly to blame either, but Louis fucked up his own childhood enough, thinking that his father leaving was his fault. He doesn’t need anyone else going through that in this family. “And mommy left to be an angel, remember?”

A small, _small_ , piece of Louis’ brain wants to blame his son.

He thinks it might always be there.

He wants to rip it out and stomp it into the ground but he. Just. Can’t.

“Harry says angels aren’t real.”

Harry can fuck right off.

“Harry doesn’t know what he’s talking about; he’s never seen an angel.”

“Have you, papa?”

“Yes.”

Charles’ eyes are wide, though, his face lighting up, and maybe glorifying his wife’s death is a little fucked up, but it’s better than the truth of the matter.

“Mommy?”

Louis hums because opening his mouth is just too hard. He slips the pizza into the oven.

“She’d be a pretty angel.”

“Very pretty, indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow shit sorry it's been so long but I've just been crazy busy with school and two jobs and basically the only thing I do in my free time is sleep so I'm so sorry ya'll
> 
> i hope you liked this, things are starting to wrap up omg 
> 
> <3 thanks for reading


	9. IX

“Daddy are you and Lou Lou getting married?”

Harry looks like he wants to spew his drink all over Aura’s face, but Louis’ thinks that they all know that that’s a bit cliche.

“Sunshine, we’re not-”

“That’s to be debated, dear,” Louis cuts in, hand coming to rest on Harry’s knee. “However based on your father’s reaction, I’m not exactly inclined to accept any offers anytime soon.”

They’ve gathered everyone here today, ‘everyone’ being their two kids and the dog that the lot of them seem to forget exists, to explain The Situation. The Harry and Louis Situation.

They’ve been dating for a month or so.

So Louis loves Aura very, very much but she is batting _way_ off base here.

“We’re taking things slow, love,” Harry explains. “This is still really new, you know?”

“I know, Daddy.”

“So why don’t you two finish up your plates while me and Harry get dessert?” Aura eyes the peas on her plate disdainfully, grin fading.

They took things pretty well.

If they even understood it at all.

“Marriage, Lou?” Harry asks, as soon as he steps foot into the kitchen. “You’ve not even told your mother about your recent… I dunno, sexual awakening or whatever, and you want to talk about _marriage_.”

“Sexual awakening,” Louis echos, eyes lingering on the photo of Eleanor hung in the hallway behind Harry’s head. “Reckon I should phrase it that way then?”

“Louis.” Harry’s tone is Serious.

“Harry, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Louis half-mumbles, his head shifting down as he deflates. “Charles doesn’t even understand what’s going on, I don’t think, and Aura is clearly just up for _whatever_ -”

“Well, she _is_ my daughter,” Harry reminds him, clearly trying to pull out a smile.

“And she’s perfect and beautiful just like you.” Louis pulls the sleeves of Harry’s stolen sweatshirt over his palms, body tilting forward until he can press his face into Harry’s chest and inhale the scent of DIY body wash and yoga sweat. _I love you_ , Louis thinks for the thousandth time, his heart beating just a little faster, face flushing as he stands up straight again and eyes the portrait behind Harry. “I can’t believe you told Charles angels don’t exist.”

“He asked for my thoughts!” Harry defends, hands soothing up and down Louis’ biceps. He makes it so, so hard to focus. “I don’t lie to children, they’re too innocent.”

 _God_ , Louis thinks, _this is where I have chosen to lay my affections._ “Well, it kind of conflicts with my whole mommy-is-an-angel-now story.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know.”

Harry’s shutting down; he doesn’t like to talk about these things. The man will discuss politics, religion, racial tension, but if Louis brings up his dead wife, Harry’s mouth is firmly closed.

Maybe Louis’ desensitized.

Maybe he should take up his mother’s offer for that therapist.

“It’s not some taboo thing, Harry,” Louis mumbles, fully recognizing that he should be putting some ice cream into bowls. “We can talk about it.”

Harry half-nods and stalks to the fridge. “Chocolate or vanilla?”

~*~

“Mom, I’m bisexual.”

Louis holds his breath for one, two, three seconds, then lets out a burst of air. “Fuck, how was that.”

“Pretty basic,” Harry hums, “Needs more rainbows and glitter.”

Louis grins, his seriousness cracking, face tipping into Harry’s shoulder. Harry cards his fingers through his hair, pulling him in close until he can press his cheek right at the top of his boyfriend’s head. _I love you_ , Harry wants to mutter, his lips almost forming around the words. Instead he says, “You’ve got this,” and leans forward, carefully pulling Louis with him, until he can ring the bell on the old townhouse in front of them.

Louis pulls away when they hear footsteps approaching the massive wooden door, their hands slipping apart until there’s a comfortable foot between them.

“Well this is a lovely surprise,” Louis’ mother, Jay, greets once she’s laid eyes on them. “Hello Harry, how are you?”

“I’m well, thank you,” Harry says, his posture and tone every bit as uncomfortable as he feels.

“That’s always good to hear, dear.” Jay finally takes in Louis’ obviously nervous stature and a look of shock strikes her face. Louis’ not really one to be on-edge, Harry supposes.

“What’s the matter with you then, Louis, come on in, come on in,” she gestures them both inside and despite the late August heat, Louis still has a ratty Adidas jacket to hang up on the pegs beside the door, both of them kicking off their shoes before stepping into the living room.

Harry’s never been here before so he couldn’t have expected the massive amounts of religious paraphernalia taking up every inch of surface area in the room. Fuck, no wonder Louis’ nervous.

It’s hard to come out as a damned homosexual when Jesus’ eyes are piercing through your soul from the mantel.

“I just wanted to talk about some… things,” Louis says carefully, his eyes looking everywhere but his mother’s face.

“I’ll make tea while you chat,” Harry offers, bee-lining to the kitchen that he’s never been in before the awkwardness permeates his very being and is with him forever. He listens from the doorway.

“So what’s all this about then?” Jay questions. Harry hears the tell-tale sounds of a sofa sinking in beneath their weight. He shuffles a forgotten pan around the stove to sound busy. “You’ve not gotten someone pregnant, have you?”

Harry holds back a laugh, just barely, and moves to fill up the kettle that hardly looks used.

“No, no, no,” Louis says quickly, his voice sounding shaky. Harry wants to cry. He wants to be there, hold his hand, but fuck if Louis isn’t a persistent bastard and insisted on doing it alone. Harry can’t say he’s surprised.

“Well spit it out, Lou, the book club is meeting here today and I’ve not even started on the sandwiches.”

Harry wants to offer his help- sandwiches are his specialty- but then they’d know he’s listening and that would kinda defeat the purpose of eavesdropping. Harry might be a terrible person.

“I like guys.”

Harry’s breath hitches.

There’s a pause.

It’s too long to be casual.

“I’m sorry, Louis, what did you say?”

“I like, uh, men. Like.” Louis stops and Harry knows what’s coming and wishes he could stop it but it’s too late and it’s not that Harry’s ashamed to be with him but this might be too much too fast, and Harry would really rather not give his potential mother-in-law an aneurysm. “Like, Harry specifically. We’re, um, dating?”

The silence is so still Harry jumps when the kettle whistles, slamming his hand down to turn off the stove.

“You’re not being serious, Louis, right?” Harry hears a light pat and can practically _see_ the light _‘oh you stop your kidding!’_ smack she gave him. Louis stays quiet and Harry can’t exactly blame him. He watches the minutes tick by on the clock above the sink that reads ‘JESUS SAVES’ in big, bold letters. Harry wants to break it, irrationally. It’s not Jesus’ fault Louis’ mother is a homophobic prick. “You’ve got a child!” The words are almost exactly what Louis used to defend his own sexuality all those weeks ago. Harry would laugh if it wasn’t so horribly sad.

“I mean I think I’ve alway been kind of-”

“God, I should have listened to your father. He knew you were one of- of _those_.”

Harry will take that as his queue, then.

He abandons the tea, two of three mugs poured, none steeping, and steps into the living room ready to be whatever Louis needs.

By the absolutely crushed look on Louis’ face, Harry decides the best course of action is to escape.

“Your hippy, tree-hugger _friend_ has turned you into an _abomination_ , Louis Tomlinson and I will not stand idly by and-”

Louis is wrapped in Harry’s arms and out the door before they can hear any more.

~*~

_Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor?  
'Cause I don't think that I can take anymore._

~*~

Louis is okay. _I’m okay_ , he thinks to himself, arms wrapped around the front of his calves, the half of his body pressed against the mattress burning up, the other half freezing.

“Are you sure you don’t want the duvet, love?” Harry asks, his voice drifting from the chair in the corner as he keeps his distance, just as Louis asked.

Louis nods half-heartedly, his brain completely shut down and- fuck, he has work tomorrow. Maybe he can call in sick, maybe Liam can handle his clients but- no, shit, Mr. Pearson is coming in, Louis can’t miss it.

The sounds of Aura and Charles playing is the only thing keeping him sane, it’s what’s keeping the tears at bay, the screams inside his throat.

“It’s alri-” Louis makes a sound that sounds pathetically like a whimper, Harry’s words stopping short. _It’s alright to cry_. Louis knew it was coming, Harry’s said those four words probably twelve times but Louis doesn’t want to hear it anymore. His mother doesn’t deserve his tears, he feels bad enough that he’s wallowing in self-pity, he doesn’t need to add on being a sniffling, snotty mess.

“Babe-”

“Hug me,” Louis demands- no _begs_ \- his arms reaching out towards Harry, body shivering as he eyes the blanket. Harry obliges immediately, laying down and folding his body against Louis’, the two a perfect fit, Louis’ chin resting atop Harry’s head, fingers gripping the meaty muscle that _is_ Harry’s body. _I love you_ , Louis thinks. His heart is pounding, head spinning, love-drunk on everything that is _Harry_ , his bitterness melting away with his tears.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so that was super short but I'll be posting updates pretty regularly so tell me what you think!!


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